my name's carlie. i live far, far away from home. i'm happy. not always, but generally, and that's all that matters in the long run.

(Source: thechocolatebrigade)

May 31st at 7PM / via: phen-0mena / op: thechocolatebrigade / reblog / 3,835 notes

(Source: theyahooanswers)

May 31st at 1PM / via: theyahooanswers / op: theyahooanswers / reblog / 296 notes

(Source: awesomephilia)

May 30th at 10PM / via: ahopefulromantic / op: awesomephilia / reblog / 1,965 notes

five fantasy exit strategies

1. Run away to Brooklyn. Rent an apartment with a claw footed bathtub. Commute to Manhattan during the week and put in hours at a menial publishing job. Drive home to New Jersey on weekends to swim in the pool and cry to your mother. Smoke Gauloises on the fire escape. Let yellowing issues of Rolling Stone and Vogue pile into a protective fortress around your bed. Listen to Cat Power. Fall asleep mostly naked beneath the duvet watching Sportscenter and drinking earl grey. Date a Yankees fan and kiss his hands on the 4 Train into the Bronx.

2. Run away to Barcelona. Eat milk chocolate magnum bars and drink cheap champagne. Burst into charming fits of laughter whenever you get embarrassed about butchering the Catalan language. Wear denim cutoffs, Dr. Pepper chapstick, and very little else. Go dancing at 3 a.m. Whiten your teeth. Tan your shoulders. Braid feathers into your hair. Perpetually wake up with sand caught in the thin cotton sheets of your tiny bed. Listen to the Rolling Stones and kiss all the longhaired boys you can get your hands on without ever having to apologize.

3. Run away to Los Angeles. Sublet a studio in Venice three blocks from the beach. Listen to top 40 radio. Go to Chateau Marmont and charge drinks you can’t afford to a long-dormant credit card. Sleep with a television actor who lives in the valley. Sleep with a musician who lives in Bel Air. Break things off with both of them when gas prices begin to rise. Find Gilda Radner’s star on the Walk Of Fame and swallow a sob when you see the filthy cement around her name is cracked. Walk through the Venice Canals until the sun sets and you forget your own name. Call your mother crying from the parking lot of a 24-hour Ralph’s supermarket. Tell her you want to come home.

4. Run away to Paris. Gaze at the pink and pistachio glow of macarons in the window on Boulevard Saint-Germain. Listen to Joni Mitchell. Meet an Argentinean man in the Latin Quarter for drinks. Melt into his accent and kiss him goodnight, but return to your apartment alone because his face doesn’t look enough like the man’s you are trying to forget. Get lost in the Richelieu Wing of the Louvre, admiring Napoleon’s fine red damask. Walk alone along the Seine in an old dress, ten-dollar shoes, and an Hermes scarf. Fumble with the locks on the fence overlooking the river. They all have lovers’ names etched into them and the girl who left the red heart-shaped lock has the same name as you.

5. Run away to Martha’s Vineyard. Write heartbroken stories during the day in front of a large fan that blows curls of humid hair across your tired face. Take a waitress job at The Black Dog at night and try hard not to drop too many trays. Learn to ride a moped. Pretend you’re a Kennedy. Listen to Carly Simon. Eat hand-churned ice cream out of waffle cones. Visit the flying horses and consider how many girls just like you have sat on the same horse clutching for the same brass ring. Get stoned and dance barefoot down the length of the eroded Jaws beach. Date a Red Sox fan. Yell at each other during baseball games, and then kiss and make up between tangled sheets.

It's about what you leave behind: The Mad Girls Love Song - Sylvia Plath →

katuriankaturiankaturian:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And…

buffy’s freshman roommate reminds me of the monster i used to share a room with. thank goodness for emily and jackie and our own rooms in our cute little apartment.

this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. people who say that “kids don’t come up with this on their own” and that this is “brainwashing” is brainwashed themselves. Take a developmental psych class, kids are far more observant than we give them credit for. they are neutral and untainted. they can make observations like this because they are innocent. It’s 2012, stop pushing your archaic beliefs onto other people. Not everyone has the same religion as you and if you can give me a reason, other than your bullshit religious ones, as to why two men or two women cannot get married and spend their lives together and share the benefits they deserve, than i will gladly eat a cat.

(Source: bigpinkbunny)

(Source: fagell)

May 26th at 6PM / via: utopianchaos / op: fagell / reblog / 7,021 notes
May 26th at 6PM / via: judixoo / op: i-am-the-oracular-spectacular / reblog / 11,475 notes

skghjsdjkfghbsdkfjhgbsdfkgjh fuuuuuuck.