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"We only get one shot at this thing called “life” so go ahead, fuck it up, have fun, stay out late, have a beer, fall in love, ruin a friendship, make a new one, start a band, play awful music, get better, go on tour, break up, start again, be happy. We’re already lost so we might as well keep on going. "

— Nick Santino (via nicholas-santino)

(via foreveryoungandfree)

moviegraphs:

Misfits

moviegraphs:

Misfits 

"I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists. One where my heart is full. My body loved. And my soul understood. "

Unknown  (via psych-facts)

(via moviegraphs)

tylerknott:


Typewriter Series #755 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

I want this. I want that. I want photos of us. I want to be proud of us out loud. I want to kiss you. I want to smile and laugh. I want to make you giggle and I want to make you sigh and I want to take your breath away and I want to dance with you at people’s weddings and I want to pick you up and carry you when your feet are tired and I want to wait until you are Almost asleep and then kiss your nose and make you laugh so hard with some secret joke that your belly hurts and you smack me for waking you all the way up so we have to get out of bed and sit and watch the city lights while eating a bowl of cereal at 1:38 am. I want to smell you fresh from a shower and paint your toenails and take you to baseball games and teach you hidden things that are going on that most people don’t know. I want us. I want the smell of pancakes when it’s me that cooks them and the sun hasn’t yet woken.  I want the smell of dinner when it’s us that burned it because we fell to the floor and made love instead.  I want the handprints on car windows, steamed up from the inside.  I want long baths followed by short showers and the scent of your shampoo staining my hands for the entire day to follow.  I want ears that hear the words I spill instead of eyes that read them.  I want notebooks black with ink from all the details I noticed from all the times I sat and marveled at the way you spin through an hour.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #755 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I want this. I want that. I want photos of us. I want to be proud of us out loud. I want to kiss you. I want to smile and laugh. I want to make you giggle and I want to make you sigh and I want to take your breath away and I want to dance with you at people’s weddings and I want to pick you up and carry you when your feet are tired and I want to wait until you are Almost asleep and then kiss your nose and make you laugh so hard with some secret joke that your belly hurts and you smack me for waking you all the way up so we have to get out of bed and sit and watch the city lights while eating a bowl of cereal at 1:38 am. I want to smell you fresh from a shower and paint your toenails and take you to baseball games and teach you hidden things that are going on that most people don’t know. I want us. I want the smell of pancakes when it’s me that cooks them and the sun hasn’t yet woken.  I want the smell of dinner when it’s us that burned it because we fell to the floor and made love instead.  I want the handprints on car windows, steamed up from the inside.  I want long baths followed by short showers and the scent of your shampoo staining my hands for the entire day to follow.  I want ears that hear the words I spill instead of eyes that read them.  I want notebooks black with ink from all the details I noticed from all the times I sat and marveled at the way you spin through an hour.

"

Do you think
I will forget
how you tasted?
The unthinkable
combination of
sin and heaven?

Oh no.
I don’t.
I don’t think
I can.

"

— (via ninthsea)

(via ninthsea)

Apr 21. 58 Notes.

(Source: ylfra, via anditslove)

"But still, I find the need to remind myself of the temporariness of a day, to reassure myself that I got through yesterday, I’ll get through today. "

— Gayle Forman, Where She Went  (via anditslove)

(Source: quotes-shape-us, via anditslove)

ninthsea:

Sadness always comes in the most random times. Sometimes, I could not keep up. That’s why Mark has the habit of biting the skin on his thumb. It was like eating himself, slowly. He does this every time he felt sad. In the end, his fingers never looked pretty. “I do it in the literal sense,” he says. “Sadness eats you away, so I bite sadness back. In this, I never cried whenever it comes back to me.”

Apr 21. 21 Notes.
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