Logan Peterson.
California.
I play hockey.
I'm an Atheist.
I'm sarcastic.
I'm lonely.

Instagram:lo666ey91

I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck.

—the 1975. (via youthpalm)

(Source: portamial-mare)

(Source: iceyrivers)

Eyes.

Those damn eyes
fucked me
forever.

—Charles Bukowski,  (via toostoked)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

I could start fires with what I feel for you.

—(via dirtydamsel)

(Source: pickydreams)

(Source: forever-dtf-u)

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.

—Lemony Snicket (via sharingneedles)

(Source: larmoyante)

I want you. I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up, and the smile that follows. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed. I don’t want to share you.

—(via restnrelax)

(Source: wordsthat-speak)

chanelcries:


Rene Magritte, The Lovers, 1928
Magritte’s mother was a suicidal woman, which led her husband, Magritte’s father, to lock her up in her room. One day, she escaped, and was found down a nearby river dead, having drowned herself. According to legend, 13 year old Magritte was there when they retrieved the body from the river. As she was pulled from the water, her dress covered her face. This later became a theme in many of Magritte’s paintings in the 1920’s, portraying people with cloth covering their faces.

This is fucking sad

chanelcries:

Rene MagritteThe Lovers, 1928

Magritte’s mother was a suicidal woman, which led her husband, Magritte’s father, to lock her up in her room. One day, she escaped, and was found down a nearby river dead, having drowned herself. According to legend, 13 year old Magritte was there when they retrieved the body from the river. As she was pulled from the water, her dress covered her face. This later became a theme in many of Magritte’s paintings in the 1920’s, portraying people with cloth covering their faces.

This is fucking sad

(Source: soulstudy)

room42:

“You will realise, that this combination of red-ochre, of green gloomed over by grey, the black streaks surrounding the contours, produce something of the sensation of anguish called ‘rouge-noir’, from which certain of my companions in misfortunes suffer.” ~ Vincent  van Gogh to Emile Bernard

room42:

“You will realise, that this combination of red-ochre, of green gloomed over by grey, the black streaks surrounding the contours, produce something of the sensation of anguish called ‘rouge-noir’, from which certain of my companions in misfortunes suffer.” ~ Vincent  van Gogh to Emile Bernard

This is the rape joke:
My best friend was four years old the first time his father came into his room at midnight and tore out his throat. He still has days when I cannot hold him because the memory of a bleeding trachea haunts his doorway. He has not been home for the holidays in many years, but – even now – hands are seen as weapons.

This is the rape joke:
I have been told by more than twenty people that they have been raped. To all of them, I asked where the rapist was. From none of them, I heard ‘jail.’

This is the rape joke:
Once my brother told me that I was so ugly, I would be a virgin forever. Unless someone raped me. But even they wouldn’t come back for seconds.

This is the rape joke:
I believed him.

This is the rape joke:
I now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape. The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone.

This is the rape joke:
I was thirteen years old, and he was supposed to be just a friend.

This is the rape joke:
When his older brother came home, the boy pulled away. He wiped the tears from my face and said ‘we should do this again some time.’

This is the rape joke:
When I finally told my parents, they asked what I had been wearing.

This is the rape joke:
I had been wearing my innocence. My trust. I had worn the love I held for humanity and expected to be treated well. I had never been taught that I would be that girl, the one who keeps a mine of secrets between her legs – that girl was the slut. I wasn’t supposed to be breakable.
What had I been wearing? I wore the rape joke, then I became it.

This is the Rape Joke | d.a.s

After Lora Mathis’s poem “the Rape Joke

(via backshelfpoet)

run-away-planet:

thefilmfatale:

I’M HERE

Before Her was the Spike Jonze love story, there was I’m Here, a short film inspired by Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree and set in a world where robots and humans coexist. The film, which premiered at the 2011 Sundance Film Festival, stars Andrew Garfield as Sheldon, a lonely robot who finds meaning in his seemingly mundane existence when he meets the life-of-the-party, accident-prone Francesca.

this broke my heart kinda

wreckkked:

frockled:

silver-pearls:

dear-melina-count-me-in:

actually crying because of this

oh my god 

this is beautiful 

this is how i feel.

wreckkked:

frockled:

silver-pearls:

dear-melina-count-me-in:

actually crying because of this

oh my god 

this is beautiful 

this is how i feel.

(Source: 1hey)