why is it that everyone can be an asshole towards me and that’s perfectly fine but the minute i have had enough and act like an asshole its all of a sudden not okay
there’s nothing scarier than the split second where you lose your balance in the shower and think “oh god they’re going to find me naked”
babies are naturally able to swim hello they just spent nine moths in amiotic fluid this is instinctive so no, parent is not shitty, parent is re-enforcing baby’s natural instinctive behaviour.
parent is good for doing this because parent is basically saying “yes the behaviours you were born with are great!”
Yup, if babies are ‘taught’ (allowed) to swim before they are six weeks old, they never lose the instincts they were born with that lets them hold their head above water and hold their breath when they need to. SCIENCE, man.
What’s really cool is, humans are the only primates known to have this instinct at birth. Other ape babies would just freak out and drown. So I don’t think it comes from being in amniotic fluid for 9 months (since it’s not like they have room to actually swim in there). It’s been speculated that humans evolved in the ocean at some point, which is a really cool theory that I recommend checking out.
Also, SWIMMING BABY IS ADORABLE.
- Maybe that’s just me,
FRS. (via thedapper-dyke)
So, my parents are thinking about setting up a cafe. I suggested that they should have a library in the cafe, so people can read and eat. Because what are the two best things ever invented?
- and Eating
But they’re not too convinced. They think that it’s not profitable. I want to prove a point to my parents. Reblog this if you’d eat at a cafe if it had a cute library in it.
Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.
And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes
you cannot even breathe deeply, and
the night sky is no home, and
you have cried yourself to sleep enough times
that you are down to your last two percent, but
nothing is infinite,
not even loss.
You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day
you are going to find yourself again.
I wonder whose arms I would run and fall into, if I was drunk in a room with every person I have ever loved.
The real question is who in that room would still catch you.
woah. this was already intense, but that last comment hit hard.
You must believe in some God, or someone. What do Time Lords pray to?
January 16th 2013
Dear “you,” that’s what I’ve been referring to you in the poems I write at 3 in the morning. I still can’t say your name. I hope you know that I stopped breathing when you told me you didn’t love me anymore. I hope you know that your words could burn holes through my skin. You could make stars fall from the sky. You could kill me. You could end the world with the way you speak. I hope you come back soon. I’m starting to get lightheaded. I miss you I miss you. I’m so sorry.
February 3rd 2013
my letter must’ve gotten lost in the mail and that’s why you haven’t responded. That’s what I keep telling myself but I know it’s not true. I know you read it. I’ve seen it a million times in my head. You just got home from school and you’re sitting on your bed listening to The Strokes, ignoring the fact that they were my favorite band, and your mother comes upstairs and hands you my letter and you leave it on your bedside table, the one that you hide your cigarettes in, and you glance over at it a few times before you finally decide to read it. and your eyes skim over at it and your head starts to hurt a little, but not enough to make a difference, not enough to make you love me again. I wish you would write back. I’m tired of writing letters to a ghost.
April 19th 2013
You called me last night. Oh god. Your voice. I missed your voice. You were slurring your words when you asked how I’ve been and I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I swear to god when you told me you missed me I felt my heart slam into my ribs. I almost passed out. I think I’m going crazy. I still love you. Every part of me still loves you. Your name is always stuck in my throat and I keep your smile under my fingertips and I can’t forget you. I tried to swallow pills to get you out but I just got dizzy. I tried to wash my hands with vodka but it didn’t work.
September 4th 2013
I kissed a boy last night. He tasted like sugar and he grabbed my hips and I liked it a lot. I don’t miss you anymore.
September 5th 2013
I still miss you like crazy.
October 17th 2013
My mom told me to stop writing to you. She says I’ll never move on if I’ve always got you on the tip of my tongue and I’m spending too much on stamps. I don’t want to taste you anymore so this is my last letter.
October 17th 2013
November 9th 2013
I was over you until I held hands with the boy who lives down the street and tasted glass in my mouth. Jesus fuck you’re in my veins and bleeding out can’t fix me. I’ve tried.
January 16th 2014
I can say your name now.
- letters to the boy who broke my heart (via extrasad)
"Be sure to label your envelope, ‘Campaign Contributions,’ so you know that he’ll read it." -Stephen Colbert
This explains so much about my life
I never thought I would reblog the Big Comfy Couch on this blog…
Why WOULDN’T you reblog Big Comfy Couch on your blog?
Big Comfy Couch… Preaching consent since 1992.