But like they say, the blood is thicker.

flash—bastard:

TWAS brillig and the slithy toves is gire and gimble beneath in the wabe. All mimsy outgrabe of momeraths and was borogroves. Please note in Monterey, my son. Its bite of the jaw, claw catch. Avoid the frumious Bander snatch a bird note jubjub. He and his lethal sword, took a long time enemy of…

"When facing difficult bullshit, remember: whatever blocks your path IS your path. embrace it as part of The Whole Deal."

(Source: )

People who think Depression is a choice, take a second to think. How would it feel to wake up and not have the emotional strength to face people. To think that time is just passing by with no real reason. To feel so alone even when you are sitting in a room full of people. To have to put on a face and hide your feelings because no one would care anyway. To lose friends because you can’t find the strength to go out and you can’t physically be ‘happy’. To cry yourself to sleep, hoping you wouldn’t wake up then when you do you are exhausted from the night before, and it all starts again. You try to hide your feelings hoping no one would notice and if you slip up all you get called is attention seeking and ‘emo’. Now tell me why someone would choose that? Depression is an illness, not a choice.

(Source: andnofucksweregiven, via neverwilligiveuptrying)

(Source: foreverthemostdope, via killthelightts)

"[…]And then she sent me an email. ‘This - I’m sure you will say no - but, I’m going to do a book. For fourteen years, I have been taking photographs of myself dead. And I’m going to do a book of photographs of me called “Who Killed Amanda Palmer”. And here are some of the photographs.’ And she sent me a load of photographs of her and in all of the photographs she was dead and in some of them she was naked. And she said ‘Would you - I’m gonna do a book - you are probably much too important and famous to do any small stories to go along with the photographs, but it would be so cool if you would.’ And I thought nobody had ever asked me to write little stories to go along with photographs of them dead before."

(Source: 2001-aspaceoddity)

padalecriss:

madgirlinasheet:

°0°

Ooooh !

(via theyoungerpolarbear)

anavis:

yess

(via societykilled)

lairofthebunyip:

I get these feels sometimes. Often accompanied by an urge to stab someone in the face.

(Source: girly-shitt)

stallionduckfox:

You have to watch this. Holy fuck.

(Source: ForGIFs.com, via aliviajoelynn)

"

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.

"

(Source: lonelyheartsdeathmetal, via lairofthebunyip)

1. discovery
   “who is that sex god and why haven’t i noticed him before”
2. research
   “i have to find out everything about him omg what is his full name what is his birthday do you think he has a wife does he have children does he like jam does he like cats i wonder what photos there are of him is he even real omg”
3. obsession
   “i love him so much omg what you like him too no you can’t have him he’s mine no i must collect everything relevant to him i need it all he’s mine MINE”
4. plotting
   “hello google can i have a recipe for the strongest love potion in the world thank you or can you just give me a list of ways to successfully seduce a man that’d be great”“  
5. depression
   “i hate you you’ve ruined my entire life why are you so perfect why don’t you know me why does everything suck omg my life is over and it’s all your fault”
6. acceptance 
   “i have accepted that i will never know you but i will continuously love you and i am okay with that” 

(Source: hananananargh, via earth-to-maggie)

coloredmondays:

So what are you waiting for?