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The art I make....the art I admire, is not made for the physical benefits of a person, but for the benefits of their psyche. My mission in life is to spread good vibes, whether it be through art, or through cracking an unnecessarily perverted joke :3
Phuck the PoH- Leece.
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lunuh:
i’m never going to delete my blog so that in twenty years from now i can type my url, and scroll through somewhat of a time capsule and laugh at how much of a strange teenager i was.
(via crystallized-teardrops)
angelic-petals:
rejective:
buttrelated-url:
extahse:
intothedarkstars:
sh00p:
sexlusion:
uncuntfortable:
this picture is giving me anxiety
this picture made my feet tingle
mine too
I want to do this.
want
They must really trust each other, I mean, what if one just flipped over the edge holding onto the other and screamed, “I KNOW YOU CHEATED ON ME YOU FUCKING BITCH!”
Omfg the girls leg im so done
Imagine being so done with you, your life, and everybody else and standing on the edge of that building ready to jump and end your life. You are about to let go when your lover comes through the window. He looks into your eyes and you melt. You sit down and completely vent everything to him. He holds you nods in understanding and kisses you passionately on the edge of this balcony.
Why did you have to ruin the beautiful feelings of anxiety we all had with an attempt to make it all a precious moment? (Source: violentmelancholia, via tillitallfallsdownx)
yourhomegirlbd:
Pac stood up, and it’s the first thing you heard him say in like, two weeks of court. ‘You know, your honor, throughout this entire court case, you haven’t looked me or my attorney in the eye once. It’s obvious that you’re not here in the search for justice, so therefore, there’s no point in me asking for a lighter sentence. I don’t care what you do cause you’re not respecting us, this is not a court of law; as far as I’m concerned, no justice is being served here, and you still can’t look me in the eye. So I say, do what you wanna do, give me whatever time you want, because I’m not in your hands, I’m in God’s hands.
I love him. 108372947th reblog.
OHHHH THE LAST SENTENCE THOUGH. TELL EM HOW ITS DONE IN THE HOOD, PAC.
(Source: goongothacked, via tillitallfallsdownx)
lusture:
lusture:
omg I’m at work and a group of like 13 year old girls come in and order their lattes or whatever and one girl is like can you Instagram this with all our names on it? and her friend is like ya totally and so I may have put a q in the middle of all of their names so they got their coffee and were like “omg what the hell we can’t take a picture of this” Im literally the worst person ever
im still laughing about this they were so mad omg
(via heyfunniest)
humansofnewyork:
“I went to an all-white high school and an all-black college.”
“What was the main difference between them?”
“… the people.”
ghosteh13:
voice-of-tartarus:
demeaniac:
what if with our first clot of air when we are born we inhale a soul, and every time we breathe out, we squeeze a tiny part of our souls out. would our final breath actually be the very last soul fragment leaving our bodies?
Woah woah wait
you know those things that say “you become like the 5 people you hang out with the most”
that would explain why, because you would actually be inhaling little parts of them over time
Oh my god
(via getup-getwithit)
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