datebynumbers:

I needed oxygen.  I needed sunlight.  I needed to pull myself out of the tightly coiled ball I’d become in the armchair in my apartment.  My calves were tight from a 77-mile ride the day before. My chest was tighter. Things had become impulsive. It took an exhausting amount of effort to keep scissors from my hair. I started new projects, switched from a delicate stud to a ring, gauged bigger and making my nose bleed. I liked the way it looked and the way it felt, both disruptive. I bought a new bike with money I didn’t have and I didn’t care. It made me feel fast and free, like I could ride forever, like I could disappear, like I could forget. I unraveled from the tightness and draped myself in new clothes and accessories with no context, no memories. I leaned over my vanity and stared into my own eyes, red and tired. I looked like I had been crying. I had. I grabbed my army-grade backpack and headed into the miserable, sunny day to knock on the doors of Hell. 

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(Source: part-l-ypoison)

this is really cool. 

(Source: za-kd, via pinoy-culture)

theactualdavestrider:

HELP

LOLOLOL!

(via livinbythesecnd)

(Source: thatscienceguy, via epic-humor)

omg. this is really funny.

(Source: l.Omegle.com)

(via part-l-ypoison)