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shes only your girl because she hasnt heard my kermit thee frog impression yet

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i feel like a lot of the 'i hate kids' crowd would be more tolerant if they understood that due to a kid's limited experience of the world that 4 hour flight might just be the longest they've ever had to sit still for or that trapped finger might literally be the most pain they've ever felt in their short life or they might not have ever seen a person with pink hair ever so of course they want to touch it or nobody's told them yet that they can't run around the museum and they only just learned cheetahs are the fastest animals so of course they want to put that to the test. how were they supposed to know etc etc.

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Kitchen Nightmares is really just like

Owners: i don't know why my restaurant is failing. Chef Ramsey please help

Ramsey: hello i am Gordon Ramsay. How is the food

Owners: we have the best food

*food comes out*

Gordon: this is an alive rat

Owners: our customers love te alive rat. We have the best food. Every day they order the alive rat.

*dinner service*

Customer: oh my god this is an alive rat

Waitress: is everything okay?

Customer: no it's an alive rat

*food is sent back*

Owner: this has never happened before. Fuck you Gordon Ramsay you should just leave. People love the alive rat

*Gordon goes in the freezer*

Gordon: there are 25 molds unknown to science. The rats have set up a lab to study them. Blimey. Scientist rats. They've unionized.

*later*

Gordon: your food is bad

Owner: no!!!!!!!!

Gordon: yes

Owner: oh my god our food is bad

*remodel, menu change*

Owner: oh my god Gordon Ramsay you saved my life thank you so much

Gordon: promise never to serve alive rats again, yeah?

Owner: yes of course

*end of episode*

Gordon: ratatouille ammirite? *He walks away chuckling*

End card: the restaurant was shut down three months later because they went back to serving alive rats.

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i remembered that tumblr exists

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what the fuck is with english teachers n being like “write a story abt a deep personal memory that impacted your life” maam if i do that youre going to send me to the counselor’s office

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Please reblog if you know anyone who might take party drugs.

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this will be my go-to excuse from now on

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When I made it I knew it would have a shelf life of like, a week, so enjoy it for one last time.

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studies suggest that it’s not that deep

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my dad was outside feeding the slugs cucumber slices earlier

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How do you fall back in love with life?

clean your room.  clean space, uncluttered space, space that doesn’t have miasma clinging to it can work wonders.  clean the dishes.  sweep.  take out the trash.  peel the clothes off the floor and wash them, and then actually fold/hang them.  take a long shower.  scrub behind your knees.  brush your teeth.  (this can be utterly exhausting, but try to get it done in a day, if you can.  the end result is worth it.)

pull out your notebook.  it doesn’t need to be a new notebook, but preferably one that you don’t usually write in, or that you haven’t touched in a while.  fuck moleskins.  the yellow legal pad will work fine.  sit in your room, or in the park, or in the library, and write a list.  count clouds.  describe all the colors that you see, and note patterns that arise.  sketch the cracks in the walls.  note the shape light makes when it enters a space.  talk about what the air tastes like, smells like.  what sounds are there?  even the white nose, break that down: air planes, fans, cicadas, anything.  remind yourself that you are sitting in the middle of a space brimming with detail.  remind yourself that you are not in nothingness and emptiness.  your world is fathomless.  it has potential.

drink cold water and try to eat something that isn’t processed.  it does not need to be fancy.  buy yourself an apple with the change between your couch cushions.  eat it outside.  if you’re someone who walks, walk somewhere afterwards, just to stretch your legs.  take your fucking meds.  remember that its a good thing that you are inside your body.  your body is a fantastic and endlessly intricate machine, and even though society has smacked a bunch of poisonous ideas on it, that doesn’t change its inherent worth and splendor.  take care of it.

read a novel.  underline your favorite lines, and write phrases that twist your heart inside your chest on the back of your hand with an ink pen.  read a novel like it’s poetry.  read poetry, something decadent but unpretentious.  watch a movie you haven’t seen before.  if there are free art galleries near you, walk through one.  take your time.  let yourself bask.  if there are patterns in what makes your soul ache, write those patterns down – marbles arches or soot crumbling bricks or dandelions or descriptions of dresses or whatever it is, write them down.

your chosen family is important.  remember, they picked you as much as you picked them.  the love has no obligation.  it is given freely and it is given from a place of compassion.  you are not a burden.  if you need to breathe, take a minute by yourself and just exist, but remember to go back to your people.  when they need you, listen and be gracious.  always be gracious.  the universe sometimes remembers things like that.

listen to new music.  link jump on youtube or related artist jump on spotify or ask the chap beside you in the cafe what their favorite band is, and listen to that.  listen to something that you don’t usually listen to.  we tend to tie up a lot of memory with music.  we are falling in love again.  the soundtrack needs to be specific to that.  

allow yourself to indulge in romantics.  press flowers in old books.  play movies with subtitles and mouth the words.  dance in your room.  wear something that makes you feel good, even if you wouldn’t wear it in public.  write your chosen family letters, even if you hand deliver them.  write poetry, even awful poetry.  revel in its awfulness.  eat dark chocolate and when your chosen family want to go out, try to go out with them sometimes, even if its just to the market.  

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if we could all stop pretending we are whole, and instead embrace our constant becoming…

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Randomly hearing your favourite song is more satisfying than putting it on yourself.

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youre in her dms, im in her made up fantasy daydreams she uses to escape. we are not the same.