Don’t confuse my personality with my attitude. My personality is who I am. My attitude depends on who you are.

— Frank Ocean (via mysticel)

I’m definitely Pro-Selfie. I think that anybody who’s Anti-Selfie is really just a hater. Because, truthfully, why shouldn’t people take pictures of themselves ? When I’m on Instagram and I see that somebody took a picture of themselves, I’m like ‘Thank You’.
I don’t need to see a picture of the sky, the trees, plants. There’s only one you.
I could Google image search ‘the sky’ and I would probably see beautiful images to knock my socks off. But I can’t google, you know ‘what does my friend look like today?’
For you to be able to take a picture of yourself that you feel good enough about to share with the world - I think that’s a great thing

— Ezra Koenig being the most adorable human being ever (via unmaiden)

[can you call yourself a titan]

teamcaptains:

I am writing a book, and in my book two boys 
and three girls never find
what they’re searching for.
The book is less about wolves
and more about listening to Kanye West
in a black SUV with the boy of your dreams,
only that boy isn’t what you’d hoped
and you’re worse than he imagined.

Meaning: it’s about lambs
that forget they’re lambs
and end up cannibalizing each other.
Writing about men’s pain
is pathetic so I always end up writing 
about cannibalism. That, and girls, and not being white,
and Nike Roshe Runs.

Thesis: boys will run far
before they start needing you again.

Alternate: I am a New York City subway disaster
and you are a mother screaming in the street because your child
has gone missing. I have swallowed your child.
This is not my fault and I will not give him back.

Before class today I was in an expensive apartment
with a man ten years older than I - thirty-two years old -
who wouldn’t buy me Alexander Wang. He was a bad
poet, he told me I was made of stars. I told him he was, too,
only his stars were smaller, with planets incapable
of supporting life. I don’t know why I said it, and neither did he,
but when he dropped me off in front of the law school he said
“You’re a fucking child” and drove off.
I didn’t feel anything about it, I waved at his car and stood
still until Vito, who’s in my Civil Procedure class,
slapped me on the shoulder and walked with me to our lecture.
We sat next to each other at a desk made for two people,
he told me about his commute and Abruzzo, where he’s from;
I told him it sounded nice, and he said we could go together
when we had given up our souls and were both rich lawyers.

wreckingballheart:

Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness at the Stone Pony, photos by Deadbolt Photos

The way I pictured it, all this grief would be like a winter night when you’re standing outside. You’ll warm up once you get used to the cold. Except after you’ve been out there for awhile, you feel the warmth draining out of you and you realize the opposite is happening; you’re getting colder and colder, as the body heat you brought outside with you seeps out of your skin. Instead of getting used to it, you get weaker the longer you endure it.

— Rob Sheffield, Love is a Mix Tape (via larmoyante)

Sometimes you just have to be brave. You have to be strong. Sometimes you just can’t give in to weak thoughts. You have to beat down those devils that get inside your head and try to make you panic. You struggle along, putting one foot a little bit ahead of the other.

— James Marsden (via seeyouinsamsara)

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

Some things are better left unsaid (via surelik)

You’ve got wanderlust
stamped on to your heart
next to a list of promises
to see more,
do more,
be more. But tonight,
you’re in a city
that understands loneliness
all too well, with
people who know loss ―
they can pick him out
in a crowd. Tonight,
you’re looking at the stars
with your eyes shut, and
I hope you find home. I hope
you remember the way
the sky looked when it
opened blue.
I hope you find tomorrow.

— A.Y // adam  (via 2wentysixletters)

Late Summer

sanddollarpoems:

It’s late summer
And the strawberries
Are all but gone

It’s late summer
The leaves are still green
But everything is waiting

It’s late summer
And the beaches
Are starting to clear

It’s late summer
And I’m enjoying all these
Late summer evenings

It’s late summer
And it’s time for camp outs
And mountain star gazing

Be aware of the thoughts you are thinking. Separate them from the situation, which is always neutral. It is as it is.

— Eckhart Tolle (via dopatonin)

The best advice I’ve ever received is, ‘No one else knows what they’re doing either.

Ricky Gervais (via 231895)

you were constantly
distant, and I couldn’t stay.
Goodbye… I’m sorry.

ofindie