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one of the greatest tragedies in life is that you will always be loved more than you will ever know. someone in class finds your presence inviting and warm, even if you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with them—maybe none at all. someone on the street loves your smile and it gets them down the next few streets. someone you used to be friends with still wishes to fondly call your name. someone you used to be friends with five years ago would give anything to be in the same room as you today. someone who regularly comes into work is disappointed when you aren’t there to brighten their day. someone missed you today. someone noticed you were gone. someone loves you when you’re there; someone loves you when you’re nowhere to be found at all. you think you have always disappeared when you’re no longer in the picture, but you’ve never left the frame.

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i think i should start writing fanfiction <3

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“I don’t understand everyone’s love of Negan. He terrifies and disgusts me, his behavior shouldn’t be justified”

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“I kind of miss Daryl’s poncho from season 3″

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“Tbh I want Maggie, Sasha, and Rosita to be the ones to kill Negan. I don’t care how they do it other than I want them to bash his head in with Lucille, taking turns.”

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“Just rewatched the first 2 seasons and I forgot how funny and clever Glenn used to be. What a damn waste that he wasn’t more actively used as an effective strategist in the later seasons. (or had any character outside of being maggie’s lover tbh)”

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I love adding "Reddit" to the end of all my google searches I will never stop.

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its so sweet to me whenever a reconstruction of a neanderthal's face shows up on social media and people are like "oh they would have loved minecraft" "they would have loved weed brownies" it's so sweet. i hope that continues on to the next stage of human evolution. i want whoever comes next to dig me up, reconstruct my face, and for the girlbloggers of this far-flung civilization to go "duuuude she would have loved churfing back a freefing zarbee"

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CAROL PELETIER and DARYL DIXON with LYDIA THE WALKING DEAD 11.18 ▶ A New Deal

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there are so many beautiful tumblr blogs it's astonishing, you always manage to stumble across one in a style you've never seen before

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“At one point I was climbing off the bus and I bumped into a woman in a crisp black blazer and pointy, witchy shoes. She had a bulky cell phone pressed against her ear and a black bag with gold Prada lettering hooked around her wrist. I was a long ways off from worshiping at the Céline, Chloé, or Goyard thrones, but I certainly recognized Prada. “Sorry,” I said, and took a step away from her. She nodded at me briskly but never stopped speaking into her phone, “The samples need to be there by Friday.” As her heels snapped away on the pavement, I thought, There is no way that woman can ever get hurt. She had more important things to worry about than whether or not she would have to eat lunch alone. The samples had to arrive by Friday. And as I thought about all the other things that must make up her busy, important life, the cocktail parties and the sessions with the personal trainer and the shopping for crisp, Egyptian cotton sheets, there it started, my concrete and skyscraper wanderlust. I saw how there was a protection in success, and success was defined by threatening the minion on the other end of a cell phone, expensive pumps terrorizing the city, people stepping out of your way simply because you looked like you had more important places to be than they did. Somewhere along the way, a man got tangled up in this definition too. I just had to get to that, I decided, and no one could hurt me again.”    ―    Jessica Knoll,  Luckiest Girl Alive          

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Every time I thought "The Luckiest Girl Alive" was going to disappoint me, it absolutely didn't. Got to be honest, from the trailer I thought it was going to be a completely different kind of movie, and I'm so glad it turned out to be the way it is. At more than one point I thought I was going to get really annoyed at how the story was going to evolve, and I never did.

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there's a stage in sandwich consumption where it's falling to pieces & you're desperately cupping it in your hands & it's like this poor wounded animal that is covered in mustard & wants to die

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i hate australian people they need a dumb fucking nickname for every single word. can’t even get in a car accident without some australian asshole coming up to you and saying “oh gotcha self in a carblammy there aintcha mate” kill yourself and go to hell