stop exsisting, start living.
"to live is the rarest thing in the world. most people exist, that is all."
-Oscar Wilde

kreuzfidel:

geekerrific:cyberteeth:

Chimamamda Ngozi Adiche, We Should All Be Feminists

The most powerful thing anyone has ever said to me: “You deserve to take up space.” 

Feminism is so important!

(Source: sad-asians, via jacksxoxo)

evererika:

deepinmyb0nes:

iamprogress:

"I think every woman at one point or another in their life has been called a bitch. For a long time I had a real problem with that word, I didn’t like it and I thought it was derogatory. But I’ve gotten to a place now where I’ve made a lot of peace with it. It’s been so overused and made to seem so derogatory towards woman that I’ve adapted it into an empowering feeling for myself. If I’m a bitch then I’m a bitch, if that’s what an assertive woman is to you. So I’ve sort of adapted it as a badge of honor."

TTTHHHIIISSSSS

A+

(Source: therealxtina, via jacksxoxo)

I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say, ‘Come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.’
by Azra. T (via asimplelullaby)

(Source: 5000letters, via jacksxoxo)

(Source: badboibilli, via jacksxoxo)

suprastar:

sadunkin:

afresherowtlook:

Trust.

Next level trust.

Love that show so much

(Source: wenchyfloozymoo, via xofreckles)

sluttyoliveoil:

once my friend was waiting for her mom to pick her up and she called her mom and her mom said “im on my way, the traffic is just slow, im coming” and my friend went “mom i called the house phone”

(via xofreckles)

saepphire:

❁

jem-love13:

Did you say clouds and sunsets?

(via sex-kittennn)

kimkardashianfashionstyle:

August 30, 2014 - Kim Kardashian & North West at LAX Airport.



where are the notes this is beautiful

the mobile version is amazing, click on it

This is amazing
rotition:

I’m looking for a tumblr girlfriend to make famous! Following everyone back :) <3

Van Houten, I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time—and from what I saw, you have plenty—I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently. Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease. I want to leave a mark. But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion. (Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.) We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can’t stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it’s silly and useless—epically useless in my current state—but I am an animal like any other. Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either. People will say it’s sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it’s not sad, Van Houten. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. Isn’t that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm. The real heroes anyway aren’t the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn’t actually invent anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn’t get smallpox. After my PET scan lit up, I snuck into the ICU and saw her while she was unconscious. I just walked in behind a nurse with a badge and I got to sit next to her for like ten minutes before I got caught. I really thought she was going to die before I could tell her that I was going to die, too. It was brutal: the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive care. She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar. A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that visitors weren’t allowed, and I asked if she was doing okay, and the guy said, “She’s still taking on water.” A desert blessing, an ocean curse. What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.

(Source: hopeitwork, via kakashizzle213)