GUYS I JUST REALIZED WHY PAPER BEATS ROCK OH MY GOD
PAPER SYMBOLIZES WORDS WHICH SYMBOLIZES BRAINS
AND ROCK SYMBOLIZES BRAWN.
BRAINS OVER BRAWN.
MIND OVER MATTER.
PAPER OVER ROCK.
You clever little shit.
then what the fuck does scissors mean
basically i dont care if you drink smoke or do drugs as long as you can hold a conversation about something besides the fact that you drink smoke or do drugs
I need you, and I never need anyone.(via ieatyourgirlright)
Call me at 4 am, and tell me it’s because you want to hear my voice.(via hefuckin)
When you start seeing your worth, you’ll find it harder to stay around people who don’t.(via thebarbiediariesxo)
So one time, one of my guy friends said, “I’m pretty sure I’m straight but I’ve never slept with a man so how do I know for sure if I’m not bisexual or gay” and so he actually went and picked up a guy, had sex with him and after ward he said, “Well that was fun but I appear to be straight.” and just went on with his life without making a big deal about his dip into homosexuality and really, I think everybody should be this relaxed about sexualities
I swallowed 3/4 of a bottle of vodka and vomited everything but the thought of you from my brain. The next morning I woke up and the headache still screamed your name.
I went to smoke a cigarette, but pressing it against my lips reminded me of you. You had a mouth like filter, something that’s supposed to make harming yourself a little smoother. You had a smile that curved nicotine and I couldn’t help but want to inhale your laughter. Now, I’m stuck coughing up smoke and pieces of you in places they don’t belong; like first dates, and coffee shops.
When I smoke weed it’s worse, my body shakes and spasms against itself. It feels like my skin keeps losing you over and over again.
I tried to forget you by touching different girls bodies. When we were together I swear I spoke four languages; English, French, Spanish, and whatever prose your skin whispered into my palms. Their Braille makes my hands feel dyslexic at the touch. I can’t read their flesh because it’s not written in your goosebumps, the ones my fingertips spent far too long memorizing.
My veins keep craving you. My bones are aching for your high. I would do anything to feel you again. Without you, I’m an addict, without an addiction.