December 2010
A new study has found that children who spend more...
hopelesslylazy:
mychristmastreesdelicious:
patientstingray:
mystikos:
fregolidelusion:
^Somehow, I feel like this is the correct response.
Well I’m fucked.
Ehh. With my family I never had a chance anyway. :D
I don’t know - cause or effect? How I felt as a teenager was a large part of spending so much time online - I never really felt like I connected with a large...
excerpt from “Variations on the Word Love” --...
Then there’s the two of us. This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It’s not love we don’t wish to fall into, but that fear.
—-
I love Margaret Atwood.
The awkward moment when you're doing really good...
hopelesslylazy:
Aww, it makes me so sad!
LOL ALL THE TIME.
"Slow Dance" -- Matthew Dickman
More than putting another man on the moon, more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga, we need the opportunity to dance with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance between the couch and dinning room table, at the end of the party, while the person we love has gone to bring the car around because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart if any part of us got wet. A slow dance to...
Fuck yeah, feminists!: Reblog →
fuckyeahfeminists:
defeatdepression:
Reblog if you suffer/suffered from one or more of the following: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, bipolar disorder, eating disorder, dermatillomania, trich, or any other mental illness.
I think one of the greatest barriers to defeating the stigma…
REBLOG OR YOU WILL DIE IN 7 DAYS
aladycreeper:
I went there.
1 tag
"The Journey," by Mary Oliver.
One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice— though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was...
