lonelycoast:

Acting!

iwillmindfuckyou:

troyyy:

this is my favorite video of all time

I HAVE WATCHED THIS LITERALLY 20 TIMES IN A ROW AND I GETS FUNNIER EVERY FUCKING TIME I CAN’T BREATHE AND IM CRYING GOD DAMMIT

tastefullyoffensive:

[via]

pizzzatime:

booooooom: INSA. More here

togamivevo:

in third grade this kid got in trouble for saying “be free my niggas” when we released the butterflies

All I want is your trust. Loving someone is trusting someone. You say you love me, but then I feel not trusted, and to me, this brings conflicts in what to believe.

Hello :)

4fagsunderthestars:

hey there delilah whats it like up in rack city?

i see 10s of 10s of 20s laying down upon your titties

yes i do

no one can twerk dat ass like you

i swear its true

officerstilinskihale:

nocturnalzombie:

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.

“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”

That’s not even fair, I’m sobbing. Just fucking sitting here sobbing…

oh my god that’s so sad

I’m depressed. Some will say I’m looking for attention, but I somewhat agree with them. It’s not the kind everyone thinks. The helping kind- before its to late. Yeah, I have friends, but I’m scared if I tell them, they’ll leave me like everyone else has. My own boyfriend has even been distancing himself. I have so many people around me, and I’ve never felt so alone.

Everyday, it’s struggle to get out of bed. I’m scared if I get out, I might do something impulsive. If I’m scared that I will, I let myself go paralyzed in my room until I need to go to work, school, or some kind thing my family planned for me. I wish I knew how to get rid of my suicidal thoughts, so I can actually go on and start living.

I just need some help.

rachelisaflameprincess:

brookeeverdeen:

wrap up of this week

1. justin bieber wrote in anne franks journal “anne frank was a great girl, hopefully she would have been a belieber” 
2. two 14 year old boys killed a homeless man as a dare
3. bombings going off in boston during the boston marathon 

its only monday

vintage-tumblah:

the-e-nd:

alliwantisbeauty:

v-gueness:

v-oguerunway:

alexbasketcase17:

p-4stel:

my-twisted-fantasie:

my-demons-exist:

inconstante-delirio:

onemoreday-onemorechance:

fake-smile-sore-wrists:

suicidiallthooughts:

a-nhedonia:

allhail-oliversykes:

rap4lyfexx:

str-0n-g:

broken-wings-thatfly:

4nal-ashby:

frozen-grapes:

awkward-andreaa:

wasted-daisiesss:

m-ildawn:

elviravampire:

R.I.P

rest in peace ty, love you foorever and a day 

R.I.P dad, i miss you and love you

I don’t know anyone who has commited suicide but Rest In Peace <3

Rip to my future self

^

Rest easy Taylor, we miss you so much bud

RIP Cheyenne & Coltyn<3 I miss you both so much.

RIP Rachel I love you so much

I love you and miss you so much dad, I really hope I get to see you again some day.

its quite amazing to see the loved ones of all the people who took their lives saying they miss them, they probably thought they were the most unloved people in the entire world

Rip Amanda and Olivia.

R.I.P Daniel and Liv :’(

R.I.P Daniel, Liv, and Savannah. You will be forever missed.

RIP RODRIGO

TumbleOn)

i just want to hold everyone who commented on this

R.I.P
Ashley

RIP to anyone that has felt like the only answer was to kill themselves, I don’t care if I’ve ever seen you or not, I love all of you and you will always be remembered and in my prayers <3

It’s been one year. R.I.P. Liv.

Rip Amber you’re truly missed

rip<3.

forever reblog

theprosaicmoments:

YO, I GOT SOME TIPS FOR ALL THE MISERABLE LADIES!

(and hell fucking yes i used to be one)

• try getting ready in the morning wearing only the underwear you look the best in (only buy underwear you feel the best in) or get ready naked. it’s like a scientifically proven fact that all boobs are amazing, and i’ve discovered there’s this weird victoria’s secret angel switch that gets flipped when you’re nude putting on makeup or brushing your hair. you just look like a fox.
• don’t be scared to do things you’re really good at in front of people (they want to see) and don’t be scared to talk about how good you are at things (there is a difference between arrogance and confidence, and we’ve been told repeatedly that being proud of ourselves is cocky and unattractive: FUCK THAT, WE’RE JUST THE SHIT, WE CAN’T HELP IT)
• in recent years i’ve discovered that i’m super hot. you also happen to be super hot. i think “super hot” is a combination of attractive, unique, and comfortable. it just took me a long time to learn how to make myself feel and look super hot, learn what you need to do to make yourself realize you’re super hot, and do that. (if you think i’m an idiot and i’m just telling your to put on tons of makeup, read the next bullet)
• make yourself feel pretty. makeup is not a bad thing. no, you don’t need it. no, you don’t have to have it to be “super hot.” but the coolest thing about it is that it’s a useful tool for shaping your hotness into exactly what you’d like to show to the world, and that’s badass. it’s okay if you aren’t born looking the way you feel inside, cause you have the power to tweak. that also goes for your hair, your clothes, etc. for example, do you think your head looks like a penis when your hair is short? grow it out. do you absolutely love when your head looks like a penis? THEN FUCK YEAH KEEP IT THAT WAY
• be honest as much as you possibly can. to yourself, be honest all the time. if you find you are having a really hard time telling certain people the truth, then maybe they are the wrong people for you. do you trust them? do they make you feel bad about yourself? NAH DUDE FUCK THAT
• if you are uncomfortable, you are instantly not super hot. i don’t mean like if you are wearing shoes you love and they hurt your feet. i mean, if you’re shaving your legs every single fucking day and you hate it but you don’t want anyone to say anything. instead, you should only shave your legs so you can feel the pleasure of your smooth legs against the sheets. or because YOU like them shiny when you’re at the beach. only change yourself if to YOU, that is super hot.
• masturbate all the time. that is all.
• the only dude that deserves anyone as super hot as you, is a dude that knows he is super hot. and a dude that realizes you and fawns in the glorious light that is your super hotness.
• don’t go to work if you have nightmares about it. quit and get a new job. you maybe probably aren’t going to love it (hey, maybe you WILL), because it’s work. but if it is affecting your well-being to the point of suffocation then quit. there are tons of shitty jobs that are less shitty than that one. 
• you really need to have a catalog of things that you know make you feel better. you will come across these things slowly and randomly. but remember them, and practice them when you feel shitty. you’re going to feel shitty, so be stocked up on plenty of antidotes.
• hurting yourself is so fucking not okay. i cut myself and all i got were these lousy scars. i starved myself and my pretty hair fell out and my brain was all fucked every time i ate anything for years. i tried to kill myself and had to stay in a mental hospital for the most miserable, depressing, loneliest week of my life. i drank myself into a stupor for a couple of months straight and all it did was hinder me learning how to actually help myself and solve my own mental issues. stop all that shit, and start figuring out how to love and how to feel better and how to be badass when you’re all alone and how to feel super hot.