a blanket lain for two

dainty and dirty // filthy but fine

[lionfloss]

by Brooke DiDonato

[american-denim-parano]

[blue---rain]

via weheartit

[karlaleksander999]

[weirdlandtv]

[birdasaurus]

Lack of Color

[equinoxparanormal]

Homewood Cemetery

A quiet, gothic haven nestled between Pittsburgh's Squirrel Hill and Point Breeze neighborhoods.

Established in Pittsburgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood in 1878, these tranquil resting grounds are truly something to behold. It’s not uncommon to see a herd of whitetail deer grazing along the grassy slopes, or a rafter of wild turkeys gobbling amongst themselves between the endless rows of headstones.

Continue reading at Atlas Obscura

[happy-nervosa]

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[nevver]

F is for Feelings, IG : itsPeteski

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VIA WeHeartIt

[rebel6]

[un-singe-en-hiver-deactivated20]

[and-if-i-could-be]

[thebanditqueen]

4:12 AM 6/18/17

are you ok? i promised you i would check in every day and today i haven't heard i almost threw up my tequila sunrise tonight why did i even order that? in my panic over you i sent out a text and received no response from someone else who... fuck. from someone else who. i don't know what's going on i love you and i miss you and i tell you that regularly you live so close i can hear your tv through the door and yet i see your face less than i do the dishes you have to be ok you're alright i know you are i know this is overreacting i know this is my brain in overdrive i don't know if i believe in god but for god's sake i'm praying i'll knock on your door tomorrow and pray you answer pray i wake up to some text telling me i'm a lunatic i am a lunatic but don't fucking do this to me i can't sleep i can't breathe my other friends made me dance tonight and i secretly did because i knew if this worse were true it would be the last time i danced in a while don't scare me like this please for fucking christ's sake, i'm begging you.

[therumpus]

For years, my friends and I made a game of watching each other waste away in this desert town, finding ourselves on drugs, or pregnant with babies we didn’t want, or otherwise stuck at dead-end jobs in coffee shops and call centers because work was hard to find and we took what we could get. We joked about how shitty it all was, how shitty we all were. About how much we wanted from life and how little we would actually get. But maybe I shouldn’t include myself in this collective we; I was one of the lucky ones. Had always been. Made it through college on academic scholarship. Was applying to graduate programs. I had a good reason to leave, but we all knew that didn’t mean I actually would. My friends and I, we used to laugh at the futility of trying to escape it over warm beers in one of our sparse, under-watered backyards. People leave, we said, but they always come back.

Ghostly Woman by Zoë Bossiere (via therumpus)

[yesterdaysprint]

Evansville Press, Indiana, January 14, 1909

[gosh]