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wifightclub:

gaghiel:

dunpkin:

theoppositeofamnesiaa:

dunpkin:

someone please make a meme masterpost of every tumblr meme ever

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Memes/Tumblr

it doesn’t have all of them but it has a lot of them

this is so surreal honestly its like traveling through time

this is my new bible i love memes

congratz ashton u’ve reached peak memer

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jobhaver:

you: that is a nice ass shirt

me: thank you but, to be honest, its called “pants” and not an “ass shirt”

(via stand)

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theeman31:

vi-vae:

tree-huggin-in-tie-dye:

scumfolk:

carlboygenius:

Hemp is a Sensible, Sustainable, Highly-Industrializable Plant
We should utilize it. Hemp could solve many problems.
END PROHIBITION. It is NOT just about smoking.

Ay-fuckin-men

This is wonderful.

if youre 18 and live in michigan make sure youre registered to vote, legalization of marijuana is on the ballet the november!

Imagine the possibilities and stop demonizing such a useful and versatile plant.
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kanyewesticleandthepeasants:

my girl angie knows privilege and can acknowledge that its not “ooo i worked harder to get here and if some women work this hard they could be standing here too”
but more like “my opportunities are better because i was born into a position thats easier to get them and i acknowledge that that is unfair”
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timid-crescendo:

rebornica:

accidentally saying something mean to one of your dearest friends

image

accidentally saying something mean to anyone

image

(via m0ntageeverymemory)

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jewist:

the worst is having a dream where someone loves you and you can practically feel them touching you and it feels so real and then you wake up and it’s like the life is being sucked out of you and the happiness just drains out of your body and you feel empty again

(via humoristics)

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decreed:

cocktailqueen:

mercenaryyqueen:

never loved a gif so much

this is kinda creepy tho

The story behind this painting is very interesting, though.  The artist’s mother was very sick, so the house was always filled a suffocating silence.  This painting depicts him wanting to scream, but having to be silent, hence the anguished expression.  In the whole painting you see figures in the background, one of which is his sister.
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Tonight I listened to a voicemail you left me three months ago.
In it, you told me to go fuck myself.
I still remember that night.
I still remember those words rolling off your tongue so gracefully.
I remember wondering how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.

Two months ago I called you at three A.M.
I expected you to ignore it, or to send me to voicemail;
those were two of the things you were best at.
You answered and I felt my heart begin to race;
you probably thought it was because I missed you,
but truthfully it was because I didn’t expect you to answer,
and because I really had to pee.
I asked you how you were and you sat there quietly and confused.
It was like you forgot that I existed and that I was once a part of your life.
You told me “fine” and I smiled.
That was the last conversation we had.
I made sure to let go of you, and every negative word that was said, in a peaceful way.

Fast forward two months, and I still wonder how you are.
I still wonder how your dog is and if you’ve seen any good movies lately.
If you ever heard me say this, you’d probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet.
You’d probably think I think these things because I still love you, that I still want you.
But that is not the case.
You see, six months ago I was jumping through hoops to please you.
To make sure that you were happy before myself.
To make sure that I was the one causing your happiness.
But it is not six months ago.
It is now.
And now I simply remember you as a person I gave my soul to.
A person I told secrets to at 4am and fucked to feel a sense of closeness.
A person I loved, yes.
But it is not six months ago.
It is now, and now I miss you.
I miss the way you called randomly just to ask how my day was.
I miss the way you seemed to care, even if you didn’t.
I miss the friendship and the secrets and the stories.
And maybe one day things will be different.
Maybe you’ll call me on a Tuesday afternoon and ask how my day was.
These are the things I think about before my eyes slowly close and I am finally rewarded with sleep.
But for right now?
Go fuck yourself.

-(via skinfilledthoughts)

(via realffriends)

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People will stare. Make it worth their while → Krikor Jabotian Haute Couture | F/W ‘14-‘15
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