Victoria|17|Colorado|Polyamorous|Coffee
|Girls|Boys|Cats|Gaga|New York

webs-we-weave:

rainuhhhh:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.


I just cried at this


i’m now in tears.

This is beautiful omg

webs-we-weave:

rainuhhhh:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

I just cried at this

i’m now in tears.

This is beautiful omg


Those nurses, they’re wearing next season Calvin Klein and so am I. And the shoes? Custom Giuseppe Zanotti. I tipped their gauze hats to the side like Parisian berets because I think it’s romantic and I also believe that mint will be very big in fashion next spring.

Those nurses, they’re wearing next season Calvin Klein and so am I. And the shoes? Custom Giuseppe Zanotti. I tipped their gauze hats to the side like Parisian berets because I think it’s romantic and I also believe that mint will be very big in fashion next spring.

(Source: aurandro)

perrygaga:

Get to know me meme: [2/5] Favorite musical artists → Lady Gaga

People say Lady Gaga is a lie, and they are right. I am a lie. And every day I kill to make it true.

(Source: lori-rocks)

eiznyl:

January 28, 2014

eiznyl:

January 28, 2014

a-giant-spider:

candarian-demon:

Jim Henson’s Creature Challenge

The creature designers must re-imagine a Skeksis, the main villain of the Henson classic The Dark Crystal.

oh man

i really need to watch this show

"I was on fire
and you used me
to light your cigarette"

dulldrops  (via inescassiano)

(Source: dulldrops)

"I like my hair messy. My love wild. And my sex aggressive. But I’m still a sensitive woman, just with passion."

Sade Harrison (via laughing-trees)

(Source: wildsultrys0ul)

silver-afternoons:

We were on the brink of nowhere
mountain ranges erupting between our fingertips
turning shouts into whispers
smothered yearning cries
I love you I love you

All the words drowning
all the oceans rising
teeming with flooded apologies

I screamed goodbye a thousand times
but we had become scavengers strewn across separate worlds

(Source: papertowels)

"How could you not hear the size of the planet I whispered into your heart? I was so much louder back then."


 A story behind each window

 A story behind each window

(Source: pleoros)

hermionejg:

Los seres humanos no nacen para siempre el día en que sus madres los alumbran, sino que la vida los obliga a parirse a sí mismos una y otra vez.
- Gabriel García Márquez (March 6, 1927-April 17th, 2014)[human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves]

hermionejg:

Los seres humanos no nacen para siempre el día en que sus madres los alumbran, sino que la vida los obliga a parirse a sí mismos una y otra vez.

- Gabriel García Márquez (March 6, 1927-April 17th, 2014)

[human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves]

"

He rolled up the completed bundle of work and slid it into the pneumatic tube. Eight minutes had gone by. He re-adjusted his spectacles on his nose, sighed, and drew the next batch of work towards him, with the scrap of paper on top of it. He flattened it out. On it was written, in a large unformed handwriting:
I love you.

For several seconds he was too stunned even to throw the incriminating thing into the memory hole. When he did so, although he knew very well the danger of showing too much interest, he could not resist reading it once again, just to make sure that the words were really there.

"

1984, George Orwell (via man-of-prose)

"Maybe our goodbye forgot to end."

Ad infinitum (via because-she-loves-words)