“I am expressing multiple attitudes simultaneously. To which are you referring?"

Photos and Words that make me smile and cry. I love men (I can't have. I have an unhealthy obsession with Andrew Garfield, Chris Evans, Lee Pace, and Aidan Turner) And I love all things Fantasy. I watch entirely too much TV/ Film and I appreciate positive words (quotes) and lovely art.
Welcome to my grand mind-fuck.


Let me be specific: Game of Thrones, Batman, Avengers (lots of SuperHero/ Comic things in general), Supernatural, Harry Potter, DISNEY, Dreamworks, Studio Ghibli, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Doctor Who, Vikings, Hannibal, Grimm, Star Wars, Star Trek, Being Human, Orange is the New Black, Broadchurch, Community, Big Bang Theory, Sherlock, Parks and Recreation, FullMetal Alchemist, The Walking Dead, Breaking Bad, Once Upon a Time, Downton Abbey, plus many more!!

 

Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.

A girl at her worst that still looks pretty. Now that’s a woman.

a beautiful soul (via koriii)

I don’t listen to music in the car anymore.
I listen to poetry so loud that the speakers
bump bump bump at all of the saddest parts.
Today I saw a taxi driver cry as he checked his mail
and I wanted to stop to tell him somedays
I can’t walk outside without crying either
and somedays I feel like all I am is a taxi driver,
escorting old loves to their true destiny.

The day you left I wiped my tears on a white washcloth
and my mother kept it in her hope chest so one day she can say,
“This. Remember this. Remember how far you’ve come.”
Sometimes I write about how you broke my heart
but I really think I am writing about how I broke my own heart.

I’m not angry at you.
I remember the years, the days, the nights
that we danced by the water under the moonlight.
But I missed you when I was next to you
and I missed you when you were in the other room
and we tried so hard to make these plans hold firm.

I know you tried to keep a grip on reality
but some mornings the birds forget to sing
and the sun has to be reminded to rise and fall.
We set our clocks forward and back to make up for the days
the sun sleeps in or stays out past curfew
and darling our sun may have set
but I still feel the burn on my back.
I still feel the burn on my back.

I hope my moonlight catches your eye as you’re driving at night
and I hope your sun shines so bright on a new love.
I hope you found a way to keep your tires from always popping
and I hope you found a way to get better rest.
I hope the books on your shelf still excite you
and when you hear that song, I hope you think of me and smile.
But mostly, I hope you make yourself proud.

Because you weren’t proud of yourself
as you tucked me in all those nights.
Maybe because we ran into love full force.
And I’m afraid a love like ours is a one-shot kinda thing
but we fucked it up somewhere between casseroles
and planning a wedding that I forgot to invite myself to.

After all those years together
I can’t remember how your voice sounded saying my name.
Somedays I wish I never met you,
just so I could meet you tomorrow.

I wish I didn’t grow old with you so young.

I wish I could have saved you for later.

(via moonoxide)

(Source: whisperingbones)

historyofromanovs:

The private rooms at the Winter Palace that belonged to several Empresses of Russia. These paintings were done by Edward Petrovich Hau, a Russian painter who specialized in detailed (almost photographically so) renditions of palace rooms, a documentation of nineteenth century Russia.

You think ‘Okay, I get it, I’m prepared for the worst’, but you hold out that small hope, see, and that’s what fucks you up. That’s what kills you.

Stephen King, “Joyland” (via ckgarden)

(Source: fuckyeah-unclesteve)