May 2012
56 posts
Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the...
– Pablo Neruda (via atomiclanterns)
Shadows and Light Painting by Rashad Alakbarov
thankyoukindlyy:
Those nights where you just fucking hate everyone.
younghollywoodcelebs:
kairosclerosis
mirroir:
n. the moment you realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.
I can srsly imagine this conversation going down...
my dad: (yelling at the tv)
me: you're yelling like the players are actually gonna listen to you.
my dad: you're in love with a boy that doesn't even know you exist.
me:
me: dont talk to me