all at once Moscow
  • Teacher:

    What are you going to do after college?

  • Senior:

    I don't know.

  • Teacher:

    Well what are you passionate about?

  • Senior:

    I haven't had time to find my passion because I'm too busy preparing for tests/midterms/finals/the AP exam/ACT/SAT and having to write my college entry/scholarship/housing applications. Plus, I have homework.

People think they know the mystery of living in your skin. They don’t. There’s no one who knows except the person who carts it around her own self.
Colum McCann (via kayblaisdell)

(Source: captainswaan, via buffysummerslay)

(Source: kurtsies, via berrierachel)

(Source: scarlettjohanson, via buffysummerslay)

― Brad Meltzer

(Source: scottiles, via buffysummerslay)


by overthinking and seeing the worst in every situation we kinda break our hearts. for nothing.


by overthinking and seeing the worst in every situation we kinda break our hearts. for nothing.

(Source: trans-par-en-cy, via meganmckinleymace)


dying. just a little bit.

"When Ben Nunery and his wife Ali got married in 2009, they had just closed on their new house, so they took the opportunity to take their wedding photos in the empty home.

Just four and a half years later, after Ali’s tragic death from cancer at at the age of 31 in 2011, Ben and his young daughter Olivia got ready to move to a new house, but they wanted to say goodbye to the old one. So they recreated these special photos from Ben and Ali’s wedding day, as a way to remember the happy times”


I hope that people can see it as evidence of a love that Ali and I shared that is still very deep, [and] that love carries on, and it doesn’t die,” he said. “People who don’t know us personally but may have experience with losing a loved one can see that as an example of healing and life moving on." - Ben Nunery

(via accordion-bones)

My older brother received a call at two pm on a Thursday,
That his roommate from college
And best friend from high school;
Overdosed and died,
Last Wednesday night.

My brother is 25 years old.
He missed three days of work, sat at home in the dark,
And cried for the first time in six months.
This is not poetry.

My father is very, very sick.
He sleeps for seven hours,
To build up a half hour of strength,
Just so he can pick me up from school.
He hasn’t been well in over a year.
And still,
He prays every night, “Thank you God, for making this happen to me, and not my children.”

I am swallowed in fear,
That soon enough, he will go to bed,
And never wake up.
This is not poetry.

There are thousands of people,
fighting cancer,
and war,
and death,
just to have one more day,
In hopes that it will get better.

And still,
You people glorify sadness,
and long for your death,
because apparently life,
is just too much of a burden.
Wake up, your ignorance is sickening.
Your life is thousands of times more beautiful,
Than your death will be.

For My Father, S.Skavdahl (via sunflowury)


(via sunflowury)

(via accordion-bones)

By far
the finest tumblr
theme ever
by a crazy man
in Russia