i need to learn a way to control my fucking temper. because this is just pure bull shit. my muscles hurt cause theyre so tensed up, im sweating, and i just want to beat someone’s face in, and nothing im doing is calming me down. 

ive been doing so good, why is this still not going away..? :/

holy mother fucking rage. i dont know how to make this stop, and i just scared the shit out of myself.. FUCK FUCK FUCKING FUCK. 

i want to fight something, but im tired of fighting myself. 

photo

snugglesharks:

self-sustaining-sadness:

lovelistenlearnlive:

So, there is this boy...(^~~~That boy up there, in case you hadn’t all guessed that.)***In real life, his name is Karsten; on tumblr, he is self-sustaining-saddness. Photo credit is all his; you can see more of his work at https://www.facebook.com/FilmGrainPhotography.***Now, as I was saying:There is this boy.And he doesn’t really know it, but I think that he is absolutely perfect. He will never believe it, but I’ve always believed that there is beauty in the breaking.
He is like a late fall morning; like the leaves on the trees, he is no longer new or pristine or untouched by the ravages of time and sun that burns too bright and winter’s cold shoulder. That does not make him any less ravishing, however; in fact, it means that he has really come into his own. He is no longer green with youth, but multicoloured and multifaceted. Time passes and emotions erode things in the same way that the cold rushes in and changes the leaves…but as they die, they are at their most beautiful; they are surreal and they are vibrant. And like the leaves on the trees, he may fall…but he starts anew each time.
And that is one of the many things that makes him so beautiful. He is delicate, and you can trace his emotions through his eyes the same way that you can trace the veins in a leaf or the way you can track a rivulet of water finding it’s way to the floor of your shower. What is truly remarkable about him, though, is that in his state of fragility he finds the way to still be one of the strongest people that I have ever met. Even when he feels like there is nothing good left, he gets up and he carries on; he constantly puts his friends needs above his own, trying to make their days manageable even if his has been a completely disaster.
He is the highlight of my day. I do not know nearly enough about him, but I do know everything I need to know to call him one of my best friends. He is one of the most empathetic people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and everything he does is charming. Sadly, he does not give himself the credit that he deserves; he does not realize just how truly remarkable he is. His smiles are snowflakes, fleeting but dazzling in their array of intricacies; no single one is the same, and yet the are all equally beautiful in their own right.
He is no ray of sunshine, but he is infinitely more precious. He is the wavering flame of a candle in the pitch black. He is the ice glittering off of the tree branches, crystalline in both his perfection and his imperfection. He is a cup of tea on days when the cold burrows into your very bones.
He may not be a peaceful Sunday morning or a lazy Tuesday afternoon, but he is a Friday night turned into a Saturday at three a.m.; he isn’t everyone’s idea of perfect - perhaps not even his own - but he is the epitome of mine. Because while he isn’t Luciano Pavarotti’s O Sole Mio or Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark, he is Aerosmith’s I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing…he is Matchbox 20’s 3 A.M. or Goo Goo Dolls Iris. He is my favorite song, familiar and warm.He may not be a quiet, reassuring hum of the air conditioner at night or the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Perhaps he is a car backfiring at four in the morning or the sound of a gunshot ricocheting down a city block. His edges may be a little rough and his heart may be a little jagged at the seams, but these things make him more beautiful, not less.
The fact that he has emotional scars is something to applaud and value, not something to shy away from. Damaged does not mean broken, and broken does not mean unlovable.
There is so much more that I know I wanted to say, but my words are failing me now.
So, I guess that I will leave it here:There is this boy…this boy who believes he is broken and maybe even thinks that he does not deserve to be happy. But the truth of  the matter is that there is beauty in the breaking…and he deserves  to be happy more than most.
And he may never believe me when I tell him that he is beautiful, but I will always tell him. And maybe he is a meteor shower in my life; fleeting, but as brilliant as a supernova…so if one day I am not around to tell him, my words will be.
Because he is beautiful.
He is smart, and strong, and funny, and lovable. He is so many things that I do not know where to start.
There is this boy…And more than he knows, he is everything I aspire to be.
He is lightning. Beautiful and fierce.
Most of all, though, he is himself. And that is the only thing he ever needs to be.

GUYS, I HAVE SUCH AWESOME AND TALENTED FRIENDS WHO WRITE THINGS ABOUT ME

BB.

snugglesharks:

self-sustaining-sadness:

lovelistenlearnlive:

So, there is this boy...

(^~~~That boy up there, in case you hadn’t all guessed that.)

***In real life, his name is Karsten; on tumblr, he is self-sustaining-saddness. Photo credit is all his; you can see more of his work at https://www.facebook.com/FilmGrainPhotography.***



Now, as I was saying:

There is this boy.

And he doesn’t really know it, but I think that he is absolutely perfect. He will never believe it, but I’ve always believed that there is beauty in the breaking.

He is like a late fall morning; like the leaves on the trees, he is no longer new or pristine or untouched by the ravages of time and sun that burns too bright and winter’s cold shoulder. That does not make him any less ravishing, however; in fact, it means that he has really come into his own. He is no longer green with youth, but multicoloured and multifaceted. Time passes and emotions erode things in the same way that the cold rushes in and changes the leaves…but as they die, they are at their most beautiful; they are surreal and they are vibrant. And like the leaves on the trees, he may fall…but he starts anew each time.

And that is one of the many things that makes him so beautiful. He is delicate, and you can trace his emotions through his eyes the same way that you can trace the veins in a leaf or the way you can track a rivulet of water finding it’s way to the floor of your shower. What is truly remarkable about him, though, is that in his state of fragility he finds the way to still be one of the strongest people that I have ever met. Even when he feels like there is nothing good left, he gets up and he carries on; he constantly puts his friends needs above his own, trying to make their days manageable even if his has been a completely disaster.

He is the highlight of my day. I do not know nearly enough about him, but I do know everything I need to know to call him one of my best friends. He is one of the most empathetic people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and everything he does is charming. Sadly, he does not give himself the credit that he deserves; he does not realize just how truly remarkable he is. His smiles are snowflakes, fleeting but dazzling in their array of intricacies; no single one is the same, and yet the are all equally beautiful in their own right.

He is no ray of sunshine, but he is infinitely more precious. He is the wavering flame of a candle in the pitch black. He is the ice glittering off of the tree branches, crystalline in both his perfection and his imperfection. He is a cup of tea on days when the cold burrows into your very bones.

He may not be a peaceful Sunday morning or a lazy Tuesday afternoon, but he is a Friday night turned into a Saturday at three a.m.; he isn’t everyone’s idea of perfect - perhaps not even his own - but he is the epitome of mine. Because while he isn’t Luciano Pavarotti’s O Sole Mio or Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark, he is Aerosmith’s I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing…he is Matchbox 20’s 3 A.M. or Goo Goo Dolls Iris. He is my favorite song, familiar and warm.

He may not be a quiet, reassuring hum of the air conditioner at night or the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Perhaps he is a car backfiring at four in the morning or the sound of a gunshot ricocheting down a city block. His edges may be a little rough and his heart may be a little jagged at the seams, but these things make him more beautiful, not less.

The fact that he has emotional scars is something to applaud and value, not something to shy away from. Damaged does not mean broken, and broken does not mean unlovable.

There is so much more that I know I wanted to say, but my words are failing me now.

So, I guess that I will leave it here:
There is this boy…this boy who believes he is broken and maybe even thinks that he does not deserve to be happy. But the truth of  the matter is that there is beauty in the breaking…and he deserves  to be happy more than most.

And he may never believe me when I tell him that he is beautiful, but I will always tell him. And maybe he is a meteor shower in my life; fleeting, but as brilliant as a supernova…so if one day I am not around to tell him, my words will be.

Because he is beautiful.

He is smart, and strong, and funny, and lovable. He is so many things that I do not know where to start.

There is this boy…

And more than he knows, he is everything I aspire to be.

He is lightning. Beautiful and fierce.

Most of all, though, he is himself. And that is the only thing he ever needs to be.

GUYS, I HAVE SUCH AWESOME AND TALENTED FRIENDS WHO WRITE THINGS ABOUT ME

BB.

(via tigerassassins)

audio

Demi Lovato ft. Ed Sheeran - Give Me Love
quote

"When “i” is replaced with “we” even illness becomes wellness."

Malcolm X (via amorestavivo)

This changed me.

(via losingfatfindingfit)

Good Vibes HERE

(via kushandwizdom)

(Source: nargessi, via thecolorinhereyes)

video

tyleroakley:

THAT’S THE TYPE OF STORY YOU DON’T MAKE SHORT

(Source: fagbarbie, via clearlypositive)

self-sustaining-sadness:

I just want to not be chronically depressed and anxious.
I just want to be able to go more than 5 seconds without thinking how fat I am.
I just want to be able to eat the amount of food my body craves and needs.

Is it too much to ask for?

photos

#straight-girl envy

(Source: flo-robot, via thecolorinhereyes)

photo

mangocianamarch:

creepyold-kit-hands:

#no kitten food goes in the bowl #then food goes in you #you seem to have confused a step

#if i fits i sits

mangocianamarch:

creepyold-kit-hands:

#no kitten food goes in the bowl #then food goes in you #you seem to have confused a step

#if i fits i sits

(Source: hellacatz, via grayskieswarm)

quote

"If you don’t get excited when you’re about to kiss someone then you probably shouldn’t be kissing them. It should get you riled up inside and should not be mediocre."
Crazy Sexy Khool (via shutdownthecity)

(Source: crazysexykhool, via shutdownthecity)

quote

"Don’t marry the person you think you can live with; marry only the individual you think you can’t live without."
photos

more-scars-than-smiles:

bitchesaloud:

plot twist

Well this is my whole life summed up pretty well

(Source: knightsofchlamydia, via anarchyintehus)

photo

did-you-kno:

 Source

yamisora:

heathicorn:

am i the only one who rehearses things i might say in advance? and I don’t mean like my theoretical oscars acceptance speech i mean like what i’ll say to the pizza guy when I answer the door in my pjs

I actually write it down and read it while I talk on the phone just so I don’t screw up

(via therealalexbertie)