I’m pretty sure being an adult is just doing the things that need to be done, often while muttering, “I don’t wanna“ over and over under my breath.
#i dont wike it
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
No title available

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever

Love Begins
Sweet Seals For You, Always
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

blake kathryn
NASA
will byers stan first human second
occasionally subtle
taylor price
almost home
YOU ARE THE REASON

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Sade Olutola
ojovivo

PR's Tumblrdome
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from South Korea

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Belarus

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Russia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
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seen from Malaysia
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@yourlostfeelings
I’m pretty sure being an adult is just doing the things that need to be done, often while muttering, “I don’t wanna“ over and over under my breath.
#i dont wike it
You did a terrible thing, it doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person
(via nakedly)
I can only connect deeply or not at all.
Anaïs Nin, Fire (via wethinkwedream)
There are 7 billion people on this planet who I have not met, and 195 countries I have not visited. Yet I am stuck in this insignificant town, Being pressured into making decisions about my future, When I barely even know who I am.
Unknown (via psych-facts)
EXACTLY
(via summersenstations)
Typewriter Series #1718 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
What will we remember when it comes to it, to the pinprick of light bursting rebelliously through the pitch, what will we carry with us? It will be the moments, the firework explosions of light, of color and all the words said, and the silences, the words we didn’t have the strength of tongue to utter. It will be the chasing, not the light, it will be the running through forests, from problems, or straight into arms. It will be the lips, red and pulsing from first kisses and last, from words that danced across them like ballerinas, the sound of laughter like wingbeats in winter skies. I’m collecting them, now, and I hope they are enough then, I hope they tell the story of me, of us, and I hope there is music with it, filled with god sounds and beauty; I hope I hear it over the sounds of my heart beating, if slower. We are slideshows of the seconds we’ve seen, stories told with sorrow, with strength and grace. When it comes to it, to the end of these times, we will see what we have seen, only brighter, slower, and filled with sound and soul. We will see this story, so fill its pages with such stunning and simple light, we will never wish to look away.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
My blog will make you smile (: