Maybe I don’t have to be afraid of balloons, after all. With enough heat and sparks, maybe balloons really can come back to you.
(Source: arym86)
Maybe I don’t have to be afraid of balloons, after all. With enough heat and sparks, maybe balloons really can come back to you.
(Source: arym86)
In the end there doesn’t have to be anyone who understands you. There just has to be someone who wants to.
—Robert Brault (via bloodychaos)
(Source: larmoyante, via allhereforyou)
Gets me every freakin’ time. #perfection #tissuesplease #shegetsofftheplane
True Fact: I can always be won over with “I Want It That Way”
Am I loud and clear, or am I breaking up?
Am I still your charm, or am I just bad luck?
Are we getting closer, or are we just getting more lost?
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours first
Let’s compare scars, I’ll tell you whose is worse
Let’s unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words
We live on front porches and swing life away,
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I’ll slave till the end,
I won’t cross these streets until you hold my hand
I’ve been here so long, I think that it’s time to move
The winter’s so cold, summer’s over too soon
Let’s pack our bags and settle down where palm trees grow
I’ve got some friends, some that I hardly know
But we’ve had some times, I wouldn’t trade for the world
We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go
We live on front porches and swing life away,
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I’ll slave till the end,
I won’t cross these streets until you hold my hand….until you hold my hand
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours first
Let’s compare scars, I’ll tell you whose is worse
Let’s unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words
We live on front porches and swing life away,
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I’ll slave till the end,
I won’t cross these streets until you hold my hand
Swing life away…
(Source: Spotify, via whatbeautifulis)
1-2-3-4…. The countdown’s over. Converse Music has hit Tumblr!
Photographers lining up to capture the best moments on the red carpet.
1. There will be several days that you daydream about stepping in front of a city bus. Don’t. It will not be beautiful. It will not be brave. It will be selfish. It will be broken. Your mother will cry.
2. Don’t write for him. Write for you. Write for others like you. Write so the girl that thinks about stepping in front of public transportation doesn’t. Don’t be selfish.
3. When you will yourself to sleep and it doesn’t come- get up. It doesn’t matter that it’s 3 am. There will be other 3 am’s. Take a shower. Take two. Wash him out of your hair. Write a poem. Read the same book you’ve read 202 times again. The 203rd time might tell you something different. Don’t stay in bed- you will think about the bus again.
4. Don’t kiss him because he’s broken. Don’t kiss him because his laughter never reaches his eyes. Don’t try and fix him. Fix yourself first. Be selfish. He can’t save you.
5. Date yourself. Take yourself out to eat. Don’t share your popcorn at the movies with anyone. Stroll around an art museum alone. Fall in love with canvases. Fall in love with yourself.
6. Dress up and wear red lipstick and get drunk with your friends. They’re the ones that will pick you up. Don’t kiss him. Or him. Don’t fall asleep on strange couches with strange boys. When his hand slides up your dress walk away. Hit him. Don’t kiss him. He can’t save you.
7. Get another tattoo. Get five more. Get another hole in your ear. Don’t listen to your dad. You will still be able to get a job. Did you really want to be employed by someone like your father? Haven’t you had enough of judgmental old white men anyway? Get fuck you tattooed in tiny letters on your hip.
8. When you feel the yearning for a new city- start over. Take 200 bucks and a three suitcases. Work anywhere that will have you. Meet strange people and forget your name. Call yourself Ruby. No one will know the difference. Remember to call your mother. Don’t be selfish. Come home when you find yourself in the strangers and the small one bedroom apartment.
9. Don’t whisper evil things into your own ear. Other people are going to shout them at you. Be your own hero. Keep a sword on your key ring.
10. Don’t step in front of a city bus. It will not be beautiful. Live. Stay up all night with a boy that promises you everything and means it. Live. See shitty local bands with a friend. Wear a different band’s t-shirt. No one will care. Live. Have a baby girl with tiny fingers and tiny toes someday. Pour love into her until it’s overflowing. Live. Wake up. Staying in bed all day is not poetic.
Live. Live.
Live.
Do you hear that? It’s me. It’s your life. Wake up.
—(via lullabysounds)
New York City beats something out of you — something hard to lose, something visceral. Living here made me grow up in ways I didn’t realize I needed to, made me resilient in ways I didn’t know I needed to be. It’s been a rough few years, but they were well worth it for the lessons learned, insights I doubt I could have gleaned without living here.
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