1. Friend: hey what's up?
  2. Me: the weight of societal influence on my self perception is crushing me.
cherhorowiz:

Skins (2007)

Love is, like, really important. It’s good to be loved. Even if it’s only for one night. 

cherhorowiz:

Skins (2007)

Love is, like, really important. It’s good to be loved. Even if it’s only for one night. 

askinnyblackman:

things i used to laugh at

  • actual jokes

things i laugh at now

  • yard sard

Amex Unstaged: Vampire Weekend.

Amex Unstaged: Vampire Weekend.

I love women,” coming from a man, almost always means “I love when women please me,” “I love to imagine fucking women,” “I love to jack off to women’s pornified bodies,” “I love women who don’t challenge me in a way that makes me uncomfortable,” or “I love the idea of women.
kapujanincs:

Ted Lawson
Eve (2011)
cast resin

kapujanincs:

Ted Lawson

Eve (2011)

cast resin

fevra:

have u ever had a depersonalization moment when you look at yourself in the mirror and think wow this person is me and i have this body and this life and everything feels so strange why am i me and not someone else


"People come up to me in London. It’s weird, since it’s bigger over here, you’d expect more people to come up to me, but actually in London, I get more people. I think over here people are so used to seeing someone off the TV or movies that they just don’t really care. But in London it’s kind of rare."

"People come up to me in London. It’s weird, since it’s bigger over here, you’d expect more people to come up to me, but actually in London, I get more people. I think over here people are so used to seeing someone off the TV or movies that they just don’t really care. But in London it’s kind of rare."

fstw:

@god when am I gonna get dicked tf down

nietzscheisdead:

i feel like i can’t go anywhere anymore without people soothsaying my downfall. even the cashier at taco bell was all “the flock of crows taken to following you portent a disastrous and blah blah fucking blah,” i get it, i’m about to undergo a storm of tribulation, what frickin ever 

decomposionArt history meme (x) - 1/3 countries/regions - Far East Asia

Lofty Mount Lu by Shen Zhou | Blue Birds at Night by Watanabe Shotei | Pear Blossoms by Qian Xuan | Apricot Blossoms and Peacocks by Lü Ji | Plum Blossoms by Sun Long and Chen Lu | Moran Hojeopdo by Joseon | A Pair of Peacocks in Spring by Imao Keinen | Summer. Blooming wisteria and fish by Watanabe Shotei

perkamentus:

mythology meme - three of six nymphs/muses: daphne

"More Apollo had tried to say, but she in fear fled on and left him and his words unfinished. Enchanting still she looked—her slender limbs bare in the breeze, her fluttering dress blown back, her hair behind her streaming as she ran; and flight enhanced her grace. But the young god could bear no more to waste his blandishments and (love was driving him) pressed his pursuit. And as a beagle sees across the stubble a hare and runs to kill and she for life—he almost has her; now, yes now, he’s sure she’s his; his straining muzzle scrapes her heels; and she half thinks she’s caught and, as he bites, snatches away; his teeth touch—but she’s gone. So ran the god and girl, he sped by hope and she by fear. But he, borne on the wings of love, ran faster, gave her no respite, hot on her flying heels and breathing close upon her shoulders and her tumbling hair. Her strength was gone; the travail of her flight vanquished her, and her face was deathly pale. And then she was at the river, swift Peneus, and called; ‘Help, father, help! If mystic power dwells in your waters, change me and destroy my baleful beauty that has pleased too well.’

Scarce had she made her prayer when through her limbs a dragging languor spread, her tender bosom was wrapped in thin smooth bark, her slender arms were changed to branches and her hair to leaves; her feet but now so swift were anchored fast in numb stiff roots, her face and had became the crown of a green tree; all that remained of Daphne was her shining loveliness. And still Apollo loved her; on the trunk he placed his hand and felt beneath the bark her heart still beating, held in his embrace her branches, pressed his kisses on the wood; yet from his kisses the wood recoiled. ‘My bride’, he said, ‘since you can never be, at least, sweet laurel, you shall be my tree. My lure, my locks, my quiver you shall wreathe.’ … Thus spoke the god; the laurel in assent inclined her new-made branches and bent down, or seemed to bend, her head, her leafy crown.”

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