Blahblah_imbored @theresac-blog - Tumblr Blog

artlejandra

theresac-blog

/personal/

ethereal-airbender

shutthefuckupshawn-deactivated2

this scene was so cool

lcarma-deactivated20130730

being a girl is really fucking expensive

michaeljacks0ff

hahahahhhAHAHAHAHhahahahahhahahah WHO IS PAYING FOR YOUR DATES

srushtinator-deactivated2015012

hahahahhhAHAHAHAHhahahahahhahahah WHO IS PAYING FOR OUR TAMPONS, PADS, ULTRA SOUNDS, PAP SMEARS, OB/GYN VISITS, BRAS, CLOTHES, MAKE UP, HAIR PRODUCTS TO GO ON DATES WITH FUCKERS LIKE YOU?

dutchster

[cricket sounds]

blossite

*drops the mic*

give-my-regards-to-broadway

Also who gets paid less to begin with?

medusasreprisal-deactivated2019

shots fired

meaningfulsilence

setbabiesonfire

Micro-photography of individual snowflakes by Alexey Kljatov

Very important.

ssofiagabrielaa-deactivated2019

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?

huffpost

rolltidetothat

THIS IS THE CUTEST MOTHER FUCKING THING I HAVE EVER SEEN

ice-solation

scificity

darthvaderchic

I JUST DIED

spaceman-v-spiff-deactivated201

AHHHHH

numbr87

That lightsaber took a long time to turn on

theonewhosawitall

it’s probably energy saving

flatsound

Visit Original Link

flatsound

it’s been exactly one year since i wrote that first poem about you. i sat in bed and started thinking about what happened at sandy hook, and how fragile life is, and how much i wanted you in mine. when you read it you said you teared up and couldn’t believe whatever this was we found in each other. you called it indescribable.

i lied in the same spot a year later with you beside me - emotionless. thinking about how i watched you change with every season. how spring turned into summer turned into autumn turned into winter. how the purity of something new became as hot as the persistent day as it rests too heavily on tired flowers, and how when that tiredness wins, they die like everything else.

i could feel my chest collapsing that night i sat in the stairway and read every word you had written to someone else while you were gone. how you teared up when you read the words he wrote to you, and how you couldn’t believe what you found. you even called it indescribable. now i can’t stop thinking about what those words might have been and how they compare to mine, i can’t sleep because i need to know what you found and if it feels anything like what i lost.

i’m sorry if i’m so stuck in this. it’s just before you came along i spent four years with someone who would watch me watch the world but couldn’t hold my hand and see what i saw. someone who loved me so much but couldn’t understand how a human soul could mimic the seasons, or how a person can be fine for so long but wake up one morning wanting to die all over again. so when that feeling rises over the mountains all i ask of the world is that they greet it differently than pagans when they worship the sun.

i am old soil /

mixed with the compulsion to describe what used to grow here. to describe the indescribable sensation of life in a dying field. as if remembering the smell of your blossoms is the only thing keeping me alive.