vernondaviscrying:

IM SCREAMING SO LOUD

(via sextemoji)

I went to two weddings yesterday, both involving two very special people who mean the world to me. I was more than excited to witness their beautiful ceremonies and watch as they all made that leap of faith to love one another til death do they part. I even cried a little at both. I have been looking forward to this day for both couples since they each respectively announced their engagements, and I truly enjoyed every second I was there, despite being incredibly worn out by 11pm. I mean, I didn’t even drink. I tried - don’t get me wrong - but I had a killer headache and I’m sure you understand how hard it is to drink with a seismic wave crashing into the front of your skull every 30 seconds. Spoiler alert: it’s awful and makes you not want to do anything, ever. Except cuddle with a skunk named Badger. And a very close friend.

Today, as I am working and trying desperately not to fall asleep standing up, my coworker began excitedly telling me about her plans of future engagement: her and her boyfriend have been talking, and she is pretty sure they are looking at a December engagement. This got me thinking, which is never good on any level, about myself and my very real relational situation.

Or the lack there of, rather.

I have painstakingly become aware of just how single I am, and with any sort of possible prospects either living too far away or getting ready to leave soon, it’s not looking too good for me. I want to be loved again, and I want to be able to return that love thousandfold. I want to wake up every morning thanking God for bringing this person, man or woman, into my life and allowing me to spend every waking day with them, whether it be in person or through mobile. I want to go through the stresses of marriage and everything it brings with it - good and bad.

I want the gorgeous wedding and the wedding gowns and the awesome ending ceremonies (my friends did the Green Lantern Oath). I want to be someone’s everything. I want to have this monster called love capture me and never let me go, but I want it to be a requited love, not the unrequited that I have dealt with for the past year.

I know that’s being selfish, and so is wanting to feel beautiful and for one day, having all eyes on me and my handsome mate (but mostly me), and for one or two weeks, to be completely free of any responsibilities while we travel to exotic destinations for out exuberant honey moon. I know this, but I still can’t help but wish for it day ok and day out, and now more than ever before.

I hate being so acutely aware of my awkwardness and my relational failures, because it makes me also aware of how much longer I will be single for (here’s a hint: a very long time*). It’s not that I dislike being single. In all actuality, I quite enjoy the single life style. But it’s just that some days, I wonder what it would take for me to finally be girlfriend - wife - material for someone who is so clearly marriage material to me.

*Answer: it’s forever. I will be single forever.

daenerysswagaryen said: DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT

spookyjennacoleman:

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG  OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG  OMG OMG OMG

jaxtellerhelps:


tuckedshirts:

pretendersrpa:

slippingintoacomabored:

traumacomplex:

no but imagine the tally marks turning black if their love is requited.

and then imagine the tally marks becoming a scar when the one they love dies.

Imagine someone with no tally marks meeting someone with 50 tally marks

Imagine someone with no tally marks starting to like someone with all tally marks scarred 

imagine aromantics with no tally marks laughing at this tally mark bullshit system
imagine someone afraid of being in love suddenly getting a tally mark
imagine someone married with a single nice black tally mark has a new one just appear
imagine someone with a single scarred mark that refuses to love again gets a new mark and it’s black
imagine someone who falls in love too easily having a lot of marks
imagine nurses at old people homes taking care of people with scarred marks, black marks, and no marks

jaxtellerhelps:

tuckedshirts:

pretendersrpa:

slippingintoacomabored:

traumacomplex:

no but imagine the tally marks turning black if their love is requited.

and then imagine the tally marks becoming a scar when the one they love dies.

Imagine someone with no tally marks meeting someone with 50 tally marks

Imagine someone with no tally marks starting to like someone with all tally marks scarred 

imagine aromantics with no tally marks laughing at this tally mark bullshit system

imagine someone afraid of being in love suddenly getting a tally mark

imagine someone married with a single nice black tally mark has a new one just appear

imagine someone with a single scarred mark that refuses to love again gets a new mark and it’s black

imagine someone who falls in love too easily having a lot of marks

imagine nurses at old people homes taking care of people with scarred marks, black marks, and no marks

(via weeping-angels-take-the-ponds)

trebaolofarabia:


amanderegg:

rawtranquility:

A flower for you, my lady.

Sloths are what happens when coconuts come alive

That…that is the best descriptions of sloths ever.

trebaolofarabia:

amanderegg:

rawtranquility:

A flower for you, my lady.

Sloths are what happens when coconuts come alive

That…that is the best descriptions of sloths ever.

(via vagabondpadfoot)

God dammit, Logan. Quit making me so fucking happy in such stupid, stupid ways.

God dammit, Logan. Quit making me so fucking happy in such stupid, stupid ways.


Freak Show.

Freak Show.

(via the-madness-underneath)

perchu:

dunpkin:

theoppositeofamnesiaa:

dunpkin:

someone please make a meme masterpost of every tumblr meme ever

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Memes/Tumblr

it doesn’t have all of them but it has a lot of them

this is so surreal honestly its like traveling through time

image

i dont like this

(via castielssecurityblanket)

owlturdcomix:

It’s a delicate craft.

image

fb | twitter

(via superwholockedraven)

slugbooks:


Social experiment: who wants a free t-shirt?

slugbooks:

Social experiment: who wants a free t-shirt?

(via berepah)


David Yates’s most vivid memory of Emma is watching her suddenly let go of her steely professionalism and for once just be young and free. They were filming a death scene from Hallows Part 2 on a freezing-cold beach in Wales. The actors were miserable, especially Emma, who hates the cold and dislikes getting wet even more. But out of nowhere, he recalls, “she ran into the icy water and stood there, holding herself against the waves with her arms outstretched, just laughing.” In that brief moment he got a sense of what it must be like to have a multibillion-dollar industry dependent on your every move and be only nineteen years old.

David Yates’s most vivid memory of Emma is watching her suddenly let go of her steely professionalism and for once just be young and free. They were filming a death scene from Hallows Part 2 on a freezing-cold beach in Wales. The actors were miserable, especially Emma, who hates the cold and dislikes getting wet even more. But out of nowhere, he recalls, “she ran into the icy water and stood there, holding herself against the waves with her arms outstretched, just laughing.” In that brief moment he got a sense of what it must be like to have a multibillion-dollar industry dependent on your every move and be only nineteen years old.

(via berepah)

imgross-ok:

aboutwhitewomen:

If men aren’t allowed to have an opinion on abortion, then they shouldn’t have to contribute to federal funding of breast cancer research.

"if i cant control a woman’s body, then i want that body to die"

(p.s. anyone can get breast cancer)

(via superwholockedraven)

Christian, writer, mother, SuperWhoLockian. Welcome.

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