Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.
Letters From Nowhere   (via lexophil)

(Source: vervelig)


gracehelbig:

mikerugnetta:

pbsnature:

A three-day old abandoned female sea otter pup is rescued by the Monterey Bay Aquarium. “Saving Otter 501” airs on NATURE on PBS on Wednesday, Oct 16: http://youtu.be/x-3ECtObdH0

AAAAHHHH

I repeat, AAAAHHHH.

thetumblr-thisisatumblr:

enstarprise:

alegbra:

being 17 is weird because you can get hit on by 14-year-olds and 20-year-olds and it’s THE SAME AGE DIFFERENCE

image

It’s also weird because you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life. You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen

dippity-do-not-touch-me:

once my sister got rejected for a job at a web design company that she really wanted to work for so that night she hacked into their website and redirected it to her blog and the next day the CEO called her and hired her on the spot so moral of the story: if at first you don’t succeed, hack their website and make them beg for mercy 

The hardest lesson you will ever learn will be to love yourself. But you can do it. There will always be days when you hate yourself, days when you wish you had never been born. But darling, you are beautiful, and if Shakespeare had met you, you would’ve inspired his 18th sonnet, and if Monet had known you, he would’ve given up painting water lilies and chosen to paint you instead. I know it’s hard to love yourself, but sometimes it’s okay to be a little selfish with your love..

When you begin to feel worthless, remember that the stars died for you. You are made of elements that are thousands of years old, elements that make up every atom of your being. When you want to cut your wrists, remember that the souls of stars live in your veins. Don’t kill them.

Live for the life you always wanted but were too scared to pursue.

Live for you. Live for me. Live for every person who has ever loved you, for the people who have come before you, so that you may be here today.

Live for the fire that burns in your soul, that tells you: keep going, you’re almost there, just a little farther. Because when Rome burned down the emperor didn’t run away, he stayed and he sang for his people. Stay. Sing for your people. Sing for us.


M.K., excerpt from "The Twelve-Step Program for Life" (via hellanne)