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.. i don't need to be saved.

d a n i // 21 // nj

I promise to love you:

at 6am when you’re waking to go to work, to school, or whatever road life takes you on, and when you didn’t sleep well, your hair is a mess, and your eyes are sleepy.

at 8am when we say goodbye for the day and you’re rushing out the door with a cup of tea and your car keys in the other hand.

at 5pm when you’re exhausted from the day and people have worn you out and you feel like crying, and falling asleep and escaping from everything. I will kiss your forehead, and wrap myself in your arms.

at 10pm when you’re heading to bed, even though you won’t sleep for hours. Especially when we become a human knot wrapped up in sheets and kisses.

at 3am when loneliness and sadness do not destroy you, but consume you and when you weep without an explanation, I’ll kiss your lips softly and tell you you’re the absolute best and that things will be better soon

I will love you when you grow old, and I will love you after that. I will love you if I’m no longer here. I will love you, I will love you, and I will love you.

(via jesape)

wigglyflippingout:

beahbeah:

this website SAVED MY BRAIN when i was a stressed out college student who couldn’t stop flipping out long enough to prioritize. quite a few of you are still suffering through college so i hope this helps you too!! c:

reblogging this like the wind and god bless the person who made this

i know how to do the calculation longhand or at least i used to, but hearing it from someone else always silences my irritating voice of anxiety a little better so hopefully some other people can appreciate that effect too


Stay away from people who make you feel like you are hard to love.


professorfangirl:

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.
Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.
Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.
The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.
I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.
The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.
So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.
Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.
Fucking wasps.

I tried to reblog this with a witty tag, but Tumblr took it as serious advice:

professorfangirl:

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.

Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.

Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.

The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.

I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.

The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.

So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.

Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.

Fucking wasps.

I tried to reblog this with a witty tag, but Tumblr took it as serious advice:

image


woke up drunk


kurgs:

skeletongrazed:

skeletongrazed:

what’s the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants ?

one’s a crusty bus station and one’s a busty crustacean

#i’ve told this joke a million times and it NEVER fails

Wat


ttigersjaww:

giving oral sex is better than receiving sometimes idk man


ugly:

how are people turned off by tattoos they are so fucking hot


i put on my glasses

i put on my glasses


teatattoo:

NOTHING BETTER THAN SHOWERING AND PUTTING ON A BIG TSHIRT AND GETTING INTO BED WITH CLEAN SHEETS LITERALLY NOTHING DON’T FIGHT ME ON THIS


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