chicagobowls:

Citizen | Tracking Time

(Source: joycemmanor, via ghost-legs)

60,957 Plays • 8:53 AM

endocrines2:

*drinks vodka* *gags* “ugh I hate vodka” *drinks vodka*

(Source: endocrinez, via littlepeachey)

" The people who are meant to be in your life will always gravitate back towards you, no matter how far they wander. "
by (via coldaslt)

(Source: psych-facts, via reihnboh)

" I think about dying but I don’t want to die, not even close. In fact my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic, theres so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I’m wasting every second, even now i’m writing this when I should be out there, I should be living. I’m still here in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can’t quite figure out what the hell i’m doing or how to get out. "
by (via acrylic)

(Source: floweringo, via reihnboh)

" Something inside is hurting you – that’s why you need cigarettes or whiskey, or music turned so fucking loud you can’t think. "
by (via bl-ossomed)

(Source: unextinguished, via jamjosh)

explore-everywhere:

arabbara:

R.I.P. The 2976 American people that lost their lives on 9/11 and R.I.P. the 48,644 Afghan and 1,690,903 Iraqi and 35000 Pakistani people that paid the ultimate price for a crime they did not commit

also, i think it should be added that this is not to downplay 9/11, this is to bring to light ALL the cost that hate and violence brings.

(via moon-sylph)

there’s something about going to a home that is no longer yours. it feels warm and it feels almost natural to be there, but it’s not yours. and your visit will come to an end. sooner or later you’ll be back on the road to return to another home that’s not yours. that’s something that hurts about leaving- where is your home?

evincibly:

am I the only one who looks at every grape before I eat it 

(Source: evincibly, via sondder)

" Here is what I know:
You drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other.
Once you kissed my neck in front of your friends
and it made me very shy.
Once you kissed my stomach and I started crying.
I see the tender way you touch things and want to kiss your nose
but I keep my mouth to myself.
Your collarbones are craters big enough to fit my fist into.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months.
I was not good to the last person I loved so I punished my heart
(I let it break and bleed out then roughly sewed it back together)
It is hard to write poems when I only know how to fuck you.
I am always trying. I am thinking of Somedays. I am saying goodbye.
You asked why I never write anything honest so I am writing you this.
"
by Clementine von Radics (via lonehands)

(Source: hushedsweetnothings, via indensed)