Ramblings and whatnot.

This is my clusterfuck. Enjoy <3

camo-zamboni:

camo-zamboni:

camo-zamboni:

My roommate and his girlfriend got in the shower together and they’re… Talking about politics?

I was expecting to hear “OH GOD, HARDER,” not “George Washington was entirely correct in his prediction of what distinct parties would do to politics as a whole.”

Nope nevermind, there it is, apparently political debate is just their form of foreplay

STOP REBLOGGING THIS HE HAS A TUMBLR

(Source: camo--zamboni, via morelike-supermegafoxyawesomehot)

sometimes it hurts a lot, and sometimes it hurts a little. sometimes you’re sitting in the middle of a library and you got enough sleep last night and all that really matters is the work you haven’t gotten done that’s due in an hour, and this feels pretty normal. like you made it, somehow. sometimes you’re riding a train home and something clicks inside of you and you’re set off like wildfires, you become alight with memories you’re too choked up to swallow. sometimes nothing happens inside of your brain because it’s filled with thoughts that are deadly gas leaks. those are not the good nights.

it’s scary because we’re all these little harmless bubbles, i guess. like we are full of stories and rhymes and there’s no reason to us. and sometimes one of us just kind of pops, and they’re gone for good. like you start having to say “yeah, i knew him,” instead of “yeah, i know him.” it’s scary. we’re so vulnerable.

and there’s no real way to know if someone’s alright like if they’re having one of those moments where stuff just feels human and good or if they’re having one of those bad days where the sky tastes like whiskey and they just want to drown themselves in anything willing to swallow them up. like you can look someone in the eyes and say “i’m doing fine” and really mean that if you had a shotgun and a bullet, you’d go through with it. like you can literally lie to someone about wanting to die - and someone can do the same to you.

i wonder about that a lot, you know? like how many people i haven’t noticed are ready to click themselves out of the picture. like how many people i didn’t help because i totally bought it when they sold the idea they were whole and doing well. i wonder if they go home and think nobody really cares enough to look deeply. i care about you, i just trust too easily and i want to believe that you’re not dying. i guess that’s just some coping mechanism, you know? humans can’t believe the ones we love want to go. we can’t live with the idea that they’ll slip under if we leave them alone, so we paint them with good swimming skills and not a drop of sorrow in their bones.

or maybe i’m just self-centered and awful. i don’t know.

—10.13.2014 // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

(via sickfake)