I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while we eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.
— b.e.fitzgerald (Art is a Facebook status about your winter break.)
I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while we eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.
— b.e.fitzgerald (Art is a Facebook status about your winter break.)

teen wolf → season 1

gavinscreamingmichaelyelling:

time-is-a-many-splendored-thing:

douglasmurphy:

rainbowcoffin:

c-h-0-w:

nightwife:

Always reblog

Woah

well he really should have worn more protective clothing if he didn’t want that to happensounds to me like he was asking for it

Are we really sure he was actually shot and decapitated? Idk, sounds like something he would’ve made up. Guys make false decapitation accusations all the time, you know. 

If he didn’t want to be decapitated, he shouldn’t have worn a shirt that showed off his neck

I mean, not all woman decapitate people. I’m not like that.

gavinscreamingmichaelyelling:

time-is-a-many-splendored-thing:

douglasmurphy:

rainbowcoffin:

c-h-0-w:

nightwife:

Always reblog

Woah

well he really should have worn more protective clothing if he didn’t want that to happen
sounds to me like he was asking for it

Are we really sure he was actually shot and decapitated? Idk, sounds like something he would’ve made up. Guys make false decapitation accusations all the time, you know. 

If he didn’t want to be decapitated, he shouldn’t have worn a shirt that showed off his neck

I mean, not all woman decapitate people. I’m not like that.

lawebloca:

Little Girl Plays on Gentle Giant Tibetan Mastiff ** video **

brodinsons:

oldandnewfirm:

beckyybarnes:

Vin Diesel does the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge

anomalousdata:

"Hello, I am here to play!"

buildabitchworkshop:

according to popular show like pretty little liars

teen girls dress like this everyday

image

with a completely different outfit every single day never wearing the same thing

image

at school

image

and they are all flawlessly beautiful and have impeccable bodies

image

u know what teenage girls really look like?

image

or this

image

or this

image

and wear shit like this

image

adn this

imageimage

why is it so fucking hard to have a show that portrays girls in a realistic flawed way. why do we keep lying to ourselves so much



backward »