my therapist: so how are you doing today?
me:
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Sade Olutola
No title available

@theartofmadeline
Jules of Nature
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

JBB: An Artblog!
art blog(derogatory)
ojovivo
d e v o n

tannertan36

No title available
Cosimo Galluzzi

Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second
hello vonnie
noise dept.
Not today Justin
occasionally subtle
NASA

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Poland
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from India

seen from South Africa
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye
seen from T1

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from United States
@soph-ist
my therapist: so how are you doing today?
me:
Oh my god he really looks like That
Here are some gems from the article:
That he responded to a 10-minute bit mocking him with “it means ‘barrel-maker,’ an honorable profession” makes me believe that Mullaney was 98 to 100% accurate.
this guy literally doesnt need tan
This guy dresses like he just got out of filming the lesbian version of queer eye
“6 months from now I will be in a different situation.”
Speak it into existence.
A better situation
A healthier, more peaceful, positive situation.
There’s only one way to find out
East of the Sun and West of the Moon
Kay Nielsen with an introduction by Keith Nicholson, 1975
Patti Smith, 68th St. subway stop, New York City, 1971, by Gerard Malanga. “My great quandary was what coat to wear and which books to bring.” ~ Patti Smith, M Train
This mysterious “chicken church” is located in the middle of the Indonesian jungle. The abandoned building itself is quite bizarre but even more bizarre is the fact that there are 12 underground chambers.
tumblr meetup
i moved to a city to be with someone and then they broke up with me. my heart is broken and my life is useless. never tell yourself a story (esp some kind of love story) because life isn’t a story, it’s just continous inexplicable events with no purpose
do u ever wish you could be like. a greco-roman lady in a 19th century painting. just lounging all day, looking bored. probably got ur tiddies out. thats the life
every neoclassical/early romantic piece of art is the dream honestly like
hang out in this rose garden with your girlfriend while she dumps flower petals on you. nice
alternatively hang out with your whole squad of nymph gfs in some water. just you and your gal pals, and this guy i guess. letting your tiddies hang out and all that
take a nap on these pillows surrounded by beautiful ancient frescoes, what’s not to love
tiddies out, nap game on, divine boyfriend, not a care in the world. these ladies have it so good
Dressed in gorgeous flowing clothes, hair game on point, sitting on warm marble by the seaside, responding ambiguously to yet another handsome suitor’s advances
h*ck yes
I love this era so much.
Napping on outdoor furniture that somehow never gets musty, and it’s warm enough to wear a gauzy nightie.
an update.
living in the city is hard. there are good times but mostly scary times. i feel insecure a lot of the time. i don’t know the difference between something being bad and change being frightening.
i’ve always been waiting for the next thing- waiting for school to finish so i could be creative, waited to move to a city so i could start fresh, waited for that love that would save me and solve my problems. and now i’m here and i have to figure out how to live the life i want to. i can do anything, be anyone. but i have no idea who i am now. and all the choices are overwhelming.
i’m trying to take things one day at a time. i’m trying to allow myself to make mistakes. i’m trying to let myself have rough feelings. cause i keep trying to tell myself, being uncomfortable means i am growing. i hope i’m growing. i want to grow.
This is the most legendary tweet I’ve ever read to this day
Marilyn Monroe tries archery. Photo by Anthony Beauchamp, 1951.
The Roses of Heliogabalus (detail), 1898 oil on canvas Lawrence Alma-Tadema
Julie Andrews, 1970′s