CN Tower in Toronto, Canada

1 day ago with ♥ 6,894

toronto    queue'd   




SIR KEN ROBINSON: Full body education

I’m fairly certain I’ve never seen one of these comics that didn’t make me cry. 


1 day ago with ♥ 162,228



Batman (on photo #1) and Robin (on photo #2) from DC Universe (Western style)


Photographer: Mineralblu Photography [WW | TW | FB]
2 days ago with ♥ 1,796 notescosplayblog)

DC    queue'd   


Harajuku, at 2 AM on Valentine’s Day

2 days ago with ♥ 64,830 notesexcdus)

i was here    queue'd   
2 days ago with ♥ 2,741 notesmiyku)

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
- Ellen Bass, "The Thing Is" (via commovente)
3 days ago with ♥ 4,370 notescommovente)

literature    queue'd   
I want to get more comfortable being uncomfortable. I want to get more confident being uncertain. I don’t want to shrink back just because something isn’t easy. I want to push back, and make more room in the area between I can’t and I can.

Kristin Armstrong (via alteringminds)

This is important! Take a moment to think about it…

(via spiritanimal-omnom)

3 days ago with ♥ 59,295 notespsych-facts)

Title: What You Need (The Weeknd Cover)
Artist: Banks
Album: Radio 1 Live Lounge: Banks
Plays: 2797


Banks - What You Need (The Weeknd Cover)
Video: x

3 days ago with ♥ 345 notes

music    queue'd   


lipstick lesbian? no, i’m a burt’s bees bisexual

3 days ago with ♥ 21,884 notesbemusedlybespectacled)


A poem in which I don’t compare
you to anything.
In which you are not an
elevator that I got stuck on,
or a train that never left,
but no more than a person.
No less than a person.

Today, you are not a mistake
or a rip in my tights or a lesson.
Today, I take myself home and undo,
undress, unlearn.
I take myself home and
write a poem about my skin
for the third time in a row and
then wash myself in it until
I’m clean and new.

A poem for the first full month
that didn’t hear the ache
of your name,
and for every month after.
A poem in which I am singular.
A poem in which I am more than
the people who never wanted me,
and I know this.

- Caitlyn Siehl, Singular (via alonesomes)
4 days ago with ♥ 2,871 notes