Live, Laugh, Be You

Ashley,18, Libra, advid&vigorous reader, serious case of the Hiddles<33, fandoms: the borgias, GOT, starwars, The Avengers, HP, THG, LOTR, PLL, Teen Wolf and way many more ! Reading is the gateway to the world -A Read the Printed Word!

(Source: hansolo, via babyangelcastiel)

ishouldnotbearousedbythis:

lmao-okay-no:

aclumsywaytofallinlove:

THIS 

this is my life 

What is this guys name ??

Um, I’m not a detective, but something tells me it might be Daniel Simonsen.

(Source: petersdinklage, via burdened-with-awkward-purpose)

girlsbydaylight:

Princess Fashion Collection by HigSousa

(via singingsh0wtunes)

sirdef:

FOR everybodyilovedies WHO IS BASICALLY SUNSHINE

(via rcmclachlan)

“We now know that 24 hours without sleep, or a week of sleeping four or five hours a night induces an impairment equivalent to a blood alcohol level of .1 percent. We would never say, ‘This person is a great worker! He’s drunk all the time!’ yet we continue to celebrate people who sacrifice sleep for work.”

—   

Insights from the doctor who coaches athletes on sleep. Pair with the science of what actually happens while you sleep and how it affects your every waking hour.

More on sleep here.

(via explore-blog)

Get that rest, folks! Science says so.

(via weightless-hateless)

(via scholasticwhimsy)

“We’re not friends, we’re not enemies. We’re strangers with some memories.”

—   

Frank Ocean

(via whatalovelythought)

(Source: l-ucia, via vanessatltq)

'are you flirting with me or are you like this to everyone' a classic novel by me

(Source: tany4, via manda)

“Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.”

—   

Kait Rokowski, “A Good Day” (via oofpoetry

one of my favorite poems on here i think 

(via lovellygrace)

(via singingsh0wtunes)