We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
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Anaïs Nin (via deadlysick)
don’t act like just because it’s gonna be october that means you’re gonna go spend late nights in the forest with orange leaves, hoodies, and a significant other when we all know you’re gonna lay on the couch and watch Halloweentown High on Disney Channel
no he’s hot he can’t die
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me watching tv (via arthrpendragon)
We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories.
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Jonathan Gottschall, The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human (via cette-coquette)
remember there is a spider that can spin a web thick enough to stop a train, and scientists have figured out how to record our dreams so we can re watch them. u probably have a couple of mongolian war lord atoms in u and a hummingbird can recall every single flower it has visited. there is so much to know and find out if we keep on living. u can do it friends :)
drake the type of nigga who eats two gummie bears so they can die together
