brothersbloood:

My boyfriend just ended our almost four year relationship via text message and its 7:15 am how are YOU doing

lmao happy three year anniversary of this 

railroadsoftware:

Ancient Greek guy talking to Ancient Greek artist: so what kind of art do you do?
Ancient Greek artist: handsome muscle boys
Ancient Greek guy: nice, love that

(via witchjock)

arabwife:

me: unbothered, moisturized, in my lane, well hydrated, flourishing

(via bonersnstuff)

i saw jawbreaker last night and cried like a gosh darn baby throughout accident prone and jinx removing

:’)

vesley:

Wasn’t puberty supposed to make me hot

(via poetessinthepit)

jathis:

dotsquid:

‘i wasnt racist in my canon’ in regards to kinning pewdiepie is the funniest thing this website has produced this month. none of your furry memes or elf practice this is what we need to end the year with

I understand these words but not in this order

(via fh3207972)

i think about the night you took me up to your roof. it’s a furnished roof, and the building is something like 10 stories tall, but you don’t get much of a view, unless you like to look out over the gowanus canal and the flattened ugly warehousey part of your neighborhood. i think about how you told me you had something serious to tell me (it wasn’t that serious). but i told you something serious too because it felt like the kind of situation where you had to reciprocate, lest the balance of serious disclosures be thrown off. i told you, and you laughed, because what i told you wasn’t grave in the slightest, and then you kissed me, and i wondered if you brought other girls up to your roof, too, if this was the place you told them things you didn’t want to whisper within the walls of your apartment.

i think about the night you met me at that disgusting bar in the east village where we drink $3 miller high lifes and listen to someone whose parents pay their rent for them talk about the merits of marxism. i think about how we walked to the sidewalk so you could leave and how nervous you were to tell me. it was september but it was humid and the air still clung to you like saran wrap. it was late. nobody was walking down 7th street. you were talking just to talk, just until your uber driver rounded the corner from 2nd avenue and pulled down 7th street, and you ended some sentence by saying that i knew how you felt about me. it couldn’t be further from the truth, i said. how did you feel about me? we’re not dating, but everyone in our orbits knows. you told me you loved me, right there on the sidewalk, and i told you i loved you back, and your uber pulled up and you drove away and i went back inside my bar to order another whiskey shot. later we would sit on the concrete in the park in chinatown across from 169 bar and you would tell me the way you felt about me would never change. i told you i loved you again standing outside that bar, later. you said it back. on a sunny friday we went to clockwork and you couldn’t stop laughing and when i asked you why you said it was because that’s just how you feel when we’re together. you took me out to the sidewalk on bowery and you flinched when i accidentally brushed against your new tattoo, and then you kissed me and told me you’d see me later. how many meta conversations about relationships do two people have to have in public spaces in lower manhattan until the ghost of robert moses just announces they’re legally married?