You're Biggest Nightmare
imyournightmarelittleone:

Every fucking day. Can’t i get a break?? 

imyournightmarelittleone:

Every fucking day. Can’t i get a break?? 

5weetsorrow:

Sad/Bands/B&W blog

5weetsorrow:

Sad/Bands/B&W blog

judgeoftheblogosphere:

literally what this website did to some of you

judgeoftheblogosphere:

literally what this website did to some of you

bxnfire:

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984 - 2010)

cheesusfugget:

Based on a true story

cheesusfugget:

Based on a true story

live-like-holden-caulfield:

I loved this fucking movie!

live-like-holden-caulfield:

I loved this fucking movie!

ofwnchesters:

no but guys

someone told our professor that i had a fantastic pick up line and they made me tell her

DO YOU KNOW
HOW AWKWARD IT IS
TO LOOK YOUR PROFESSOR IN THE EYE AND SAY
“I MAY NOT GO DOWN IN HISTORY BUT I’LL GO DOWN ON YOU”

AND THEN

SHE RESPONDS

“I’M GOING TO TRY THAT ON MY HUSBAND”

dONE

1ovelost:

jakelittle:

Rule 3 of Tumblr: When you see this post, you ALWAYS reblog.

image

THIS IS THE BEST THING IN EXISTENCE

HAHHAHDASHDHAHSHHHHHH

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.

Kait Rokowski, “A Good Day” (via oofpoetry)

This is amazing, I want to hug this person and smile

(via danniellezena)

Because i’m not someone you fall in love with. I’m someone you feel sorry for.
2 a.m thoughts

coolscar:

cyandye:

coolscar:

*mr krabs voice* secret formuler 

*plankton voice* hand it over krabs

*mr krabs voice* eat a dick plankton