The advice that I would give them (teenagers who have strict parents) is to try and communicate with them. I know it seems like you’re always butting heads, but often there’s a middle ground that some way you can. If you just talk about it, I think you can form some sort of resolution. I had really, really strict parents myself, and sometimes it was really frustrating. But most of the time, hopefully they’ll meet you in the middle.

"I was told
The average girl begins to plan her wedding at the age of 7
She picks the colors and the cake first

By the age of 10 
She knows time,
And location

By 17 
She’s already chosen a gown
2 bridesmaids
And a maid of honor

By 23 
She’s waiting for a man
Who wont break out in hives when he hears the word “commitment”
Someone who doesn’t smell like a Band-Aid drenched in lonely
Someone who isn’t a temporary solution to the empty side of the bed
Someone
Who’ll hold her hand like it’s the only one they’ve ever seen

To be honest
I don’t know what kind of tux I’ll be wearing
I have no clue what my wedding will look like

But I imagine
The women who pins my last to hers
Will butterfly down the aisle
Like a 5 foot promise

I imagine
Her smile
Will be so large that you’ll see it on google maps
And know exactly where our wedding is being held

The woman that I plan to marry
Will have champagne in her walk
And I will get drunk on her footsteps

When the pastor asks
If I take this woman to be my wife
I will say yes before he finishes the sentence
I’ll apologize later for being impolite
But I will also explain him
That our first kiss happened 6 years ago
And I’ve been practicing my “Yes”
For past 2, 165 days

When people ask me about my wedding
I never really know what to say
But when they ask me about my future wife
I always tell them
Her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long
I say
She thinks too much
Misses her father
Loves to laugh
And she’s terrible at lying
Because her face never figured out how to do it correctly

I tell them
If my alarm clock sounded like her voice
My snooze button would collect dust
I tell them

If she came in a bottle
I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys
If she was a book

I would memorize her table of contents
I would read her cover-to-cover
Hoping to find typos

Just so we can both have a few things to work on


Because aren’t we all unfinished?
Don’t we all need a little editing?
Aren’t we all waiting to be proofread by someone?
Aren’t we all praying they will tell us that we make sense
She don’t always make sense
But her imperfections are the things I love about her the most

I don’t know when I will be married
I don’t know where I will be married
But I do know this
Whenever I’m asked about my future wife

I always say
…She’s a lot like you

Rudy Francisco (via katcossio)

OH MY GOSH I CANT HANDLE BREATHING RN THIS RESTORES HOPE

(via sksparkle77)

englishsnow:

 Mie Imanishi

College kids literally don’t care about walking in the way of cars at school because we’re like “hit me i don’t care pay my tuition.” —

"Hit me my thesis is due in 12 hours and I haven’t started it"

"Hit me I have a final in an hour and I didn’t study"

"Hit me I’ve been on a 24 hour drinking binge and I’m invincible"

"Hit me. You’re a university vehicle and I’ll get free tuition."

"Hit me I feel like a failure anyway"

(via infelicific)

Jen Ramos - Colors (2011-2012)

Teen Wolf Seasons 1-2 in screencaps.

      - Purple to Black.

You’re my best friend,
                                and  I  n e e d  y o u .

thesoutherly:

Jana Martish

When I was about nine years old,
I wanted to be a boy.

In my mind, boys had everything.
Boys had it easy. Boys had it made.

I didn’t get along very well with
other girls because I would
rather be covered in mud than
in makeup. I would rather
skin knees than stab backs.
Boys ran their mouths and
ran the school while my
patience ran a little bit thin.
But that’s not what girls did.
Girls kept pretty and girls
kept quiet and girls kept
themselves together.

When I was about nine years old,
I realized the biggest difference
between boys and girls to me
was that boys never seemed
to think before they spoke
and I would watch girls
swallow their words like
they were pills made
for horses.

But to boys, there was more
than just that. There was
something in them that
told them girls were weak,
when all I could see was the
strength seeping out of their
pores as they bit the strongest
muscle in their body until it bled.
There was something in
them that told them
girls were worse, when
all I could see was every girl
in a race to better themselves
before the ideal image
of a perfect girl changed
once again.

Even at nine years old,
there was nothing better to me,
than girls.

But I wanted to be a boy, I think,
only because I wanted, just once,
to be picked first to play ball,
to show them I could run just as fast,
kick just as hard,
win just as fiercely.

I wanted to prove myself,
as a girl, that I could be everything
a boy was,
and then some.

When I was about nine years old,
as I hurriedly tried to tie up
my shoes to race others
to the field,
I heard the phrase:
“You can’t play for our team,
you’re a girl.”

I remember thinking,
“But why does that make a difference?”
Until I turned fifteen years old.

When I was about fifteen years old,
I realized that I did not want to
be a boy any more.
I wanted the freedom and
the power and the worth
every boy I grew up with
felt he had.

I wanted to be an equal.

When I was about fifteen years old,
and heard,
“You can’t play for our team”
as I laced up my heartstrings
like a pair of battered cleats,

I learned to say, with a huge smile,
and a nod, remembering
girls and their strength
and their beauty and their poise
and their ability to keep everything
in and everybody out and
hold together a family or bring
down an army,
“It’s okay. I play for the other team
anyway”.

GIRLS by K.P.K

But I’m trying to help my f r i e n d s.

codes by
pohroro