January 2010
HELP ME KILL TIME
MURDER IT. MURDER 50 MINUTES.
http://callhermayday.tumblr.com/ask http://callhermayday.tumblr.com/ask http://callhermayday.tumblr.com/ask
lenifucksalexhard:
Remember when? No? Well you should, it was only a few hours ago.
leni.
this happened IRL to my lit teacher in high school.
everyone called her ‘horse’ because of some rumour we know, the way kids know these things, that she’d fucked a horse.
turns out, back in the day, she did some guy whose nickname was horse.
how we ever found out, i don’t...
4thelove:
txtsfrmlstnght:
(661): Sorry for talking about super scientific shit so much last night, I know it bugs you sometimes when I don’t shut up. (1-661): What? You sat on the couch for a solid 2 hours staring at your fingerprints and the only word that came out of your mouth was “how”
“As long as you keep getting born, it’s alright to die sometimes.”
– Orson Scott Card (via suzywire) (via smallpaw)
If there was an award for most frustrating text...
ventisette:
“Ok” would win, hands down.
disagree. “K” is the worst. i hate you, one letter. i hate you and i stab you in the babies.
My grandpa just died.
(via lenifucksalexhard)
i love you.
callhermayday.tumblr.com/ask
yesnomaybesometimesonasundayinjunewithnothingbettertodo?
“I hear it’s part iPhone, part Foreman grill, part multiplex.”
– boutofcontext
best description of the Apple tablet i’ve read yet, ahahahaha.
remember when she called me fearless?
she’s gone but the words echo; i am, i am, i am…
“Anything in any way beautiful derives its beauty from itself and asks nothing...”
– Marcus Aurelius
pleased to report
that i have just bought tix to see Envy on the Coast. it’ll be my third time. but my first on-purpose time. i saw them open for other bands twice already.
rawrxja:
ihatecarnations:sacjr:
As long as you love, you still have hope. So if you love the person, you wait. Therefore, true love waits.
aw, fuck all.
remember this:
one day, you will be just another face i don’t know anymore. strangers enter our lives and leave the same way.
lady of the lake
how to tell you, the pale breadth of you, your shoulders flightless wings as you remove your shirt, the expanse of the moonshine found there as you reflect the hall light, how to tell you that you make your own fears. how to tell you that all your suffering has not hollowed you out, only sank you. how to tell what brought you to the bottom of the lake, head in your hands again, laid out beneath...
