Music: a steady riot in my soul

Barista. Vegetarian with vegan ambitions. Art. Coffee. Quotes. Musician. Travel. Animal Rights. Love. Love equality. Helping Others. Vintage. Just poopin' around and enjoying what I have.
"Time is gold."
hisandherquotes:

everything you love is here

hisandherquotes:

everything you love is here

(via applecocaine)

ask-the-fearling-rapunzel:

I will NEVER stop reblogging this.

ask-the-fearling-rapunzel:

I will NEVER stop reblogging this.

(Source: thevegancrow, via zafflower)

(Source: roobbstark, via zafflower)

asexual-not-a-sexual:

Shout out to all the people who can’t dress in clothes they want because stores don’t cater to their size or gender, making shopping a miserable and emotionally draining experience.

(via thundah-thighss)

Smiles over here for dayzzzz.  Happy Easter, everyone! 🐰🐣🌺💐☀️#doggysmiles #happyeaster #love #enjoyyourday

Smiles over here for dayzzzz. Happy Easter, everyone! 🐰🐣🌺💐☀️#doggysmiles #happyeaster #love #enjoyyourday

bagmilk:

when i die please punch everyone who says “i wish i got to know them better”

(via ekimballin)

Me.

then-it-fell-apart:

i hope one day you are at peace with yourself. i hope you can take a shower without crying and you can close your eyes without thinking about your funeral. i hope one day you start singing in the shower again and are happy for no reason. i hope you get better, because you really deserve to. 

(via vegan-because-fuck-you)

So many feelings, nothing to say. Six Word Story | Anonymous (via allineedissix)

(via tinytsunamis)

Hell is
loving you in my sleep
and waking up alone.
(via lilypoters)

(Source: absentions, via tinytsunamis)

bursten:

I hate brushing my teeth at night because that signifies that you can’t have anymore food and I’m just never ready for that kind of commitment

(via asdfghjkllove)

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

(via raconteurs)