(via uhnknown)
Sometimes you have to express those repressed urges. So,:
BITCH, I WANT TO SMASH YOUR PRETTY FUCKING FACE IN, GO FIND A NICE CURB TO WRAP YOUR LIPS AROUND AND LET ME OPEN YOUR EYES TO REALITY.
God.
You ar edreaming
Too much wine, too much pride. No one is the same person from one instance to the next, we are dynamic, constantly changing, and it's all irrelevant anyways.
(via iribrise)
(via jasonwolfe)
Language disguises thought.
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (via victoriousvocabulary)
The Scottish accent is my favourite accent in the world, without a shadow of a doubt.
I don’t know where to apply this cycling of my mind
(via badreputations)
You are so far from where I am, too far even to see me.
We’re always thinking of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why must it be? What if, instead of all this, you suddenly find just a little room there, something like a village bath-house, grimy, and spiders in every corner, and that’s all eternity is. Sometimes, you know, I can’t help feeling that that’s what it is.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment (via paleviolet)
(via wellversedetiquette)
(via wellversedetiquette)
Does anyone know how to use photoshop? I don’t have nearly enough photos of me with hot girls, explosions and laser beams. I don’t have any in fact.
(via melsinthesky)
