(Source: nornas)

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(Source: rediba)

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"You alright?"

I was supposed to be in London by now. And yet I am not in London right now. In fact, I am in Rosalee’s dorm room in Toronto because that’s where my layover happened to be last night. 

You may be wondering—hey, what the fuck? To which I would reply, I do not know what the fuck. The little I do know of the fuck is that my (poorly) chosen airline, Air Canada, overbooked my flight to London from Toronto, so the staff kindly (dumbly) offered for me to sleep on the floor over night to catch a flight the next afternoon. They booked me for that flight and confirmed my seat, so I should now be landing in Heathrow around 6:30 a.m., Monday. I start classes Monday. I have random little things to do Monday that now no longer includes sleep apparently. 

At this point, I’m kind of “whatever” about the whole deal. I just want to catch brunch with Rosalee and throw back mimosas before my flight because I heard the classy ones do it like that. 

People keep asking me if I’m excited to go to London and at this point, I have no fucking clue. 

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A Koala reflecting on his sins, his triumphs, and the inevitability of death.

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(Source: sandandglass)

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My brother’s getting married today. And the bride’s dad decided he wanted to get in for a picture lol.

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(Source: pdlcomics)

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And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself. unknown  (via irynka)
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I don't get Tumblr Porn-Art
  • Guy: Hey let's engage in the sexy times.
  • Me: Very cool.
  • Guy: Like, we're in this cool vintage cabin in the beautiful woods. Let's get down and dirty.
  • Me: Um yeah. Sure.
  • Guy: And I'm just gonna put my camera over here facing us.
  • Me: I mean, OK. I guess you don't want that to fall anywhere. It looks expensive even though you look like your permanent address is the back of a broken down station wagon.
  • Guy: And let me just set a timer...
  • Me: What? Why?
  • Guy: Because we're gonna look so good doin' the nasty. Like, I'm talking at least 60 notes on a no-name Tumblr.
  • Me: Why does that ma--
  • Guy: Shhhhhhh. People eat this shit up. You're white and fairly hairless and I'm white and fairly hairless..
  • Me: I'm Korean.
  • Guy: Oh wait. Huh. You are. Nevermind I guess.
  • Me: Yeah. Good call.
  • Guy: ...you know any girls with wolf tattoos on their side or a triangle on the back of their neck?
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(Source: iLaurens)

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All right, we will start the story; when we come to the end we shall know more than we do now. "The Snow Queen: a fairy tale told in seven stories" by E. Haugaard (translation by H.C. Andersen)
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Serving some Bay Area realness before London.

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Genuinely curious..

Genuinely curious..

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(Source: shreddder)

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