(Source: ronan-adam)

mapper3:

first-kiss-since-45:

vikadi:

set of nostalgia drawings by gabriel picolo. i don’t think i have enough space on my tumblr for all his works that i’d like to post.

these are incredible

The samuria jack one tho. Woah
mapper3:

first-kiss-since-45:

vikadi:

set of nostalgia drawings by gabriel picolo. i don’t think i have enough space on my tumblr for all his works that i’d like to post.

these are incredible

The samuria jack one tho. Woah
mapper3:

first-kiss-since-45:

vikadi:

set of nostalgia drawings by gabriel picolo. i don’t think i have enough space on my tumblr for all his works that i’d like to post.

these are incredible

The samuria jack one tho. Woah
mapper3:

first-kiss-since-45:

vikadi:

set of nostalgia drawings by gabriel picolo. i don’t think i have enough space on my tumblr for all his works that i’d like to post.

these are incredible

The samuria jack one tho. Woah
mapper3:

first-kiss-since-45:

vikadi:

set of nostalgia drawings by gabriel picolo. i don’t think i have enough space on my tumblr for all his works that i’d like to post.

these are incredible

The samuria jack one tho. Woah
mapper3:

first-kiss-since-45:

vikadi:

set of nostalgia drawings by gabriel picolo. i don’t think i have enough space on my tumblr for all his works that i’d like to post.

these are incredible

The samuria jack one tho. Woah

mapper3:

first-kiss-since-45:

vikadi:

set of nostalgia drawings by gabriel picolo. i don’t think i have enough space on my tumblr for all his works that i’d like to post.

these are incredible

The samuria jack one tho. Woah

mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.
mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.

mindgardens:

I’m with you Piper.

I’ve changed my mind about writing this song about..

In light of National Dance Day recently passing, I always think back to my first real experience choreographing a set. It was a piece dedicated to a dear friend of mine that has always had self-esteem issues, and putting this together was one of the most challenging things in my life. I had barely any dance experience (and even worse was that this was a contemporary piece), knew nothing about lines/levels/textures/staging/musicality, and for the life of me could not teach anything. It was also the day after my Culture Night that I was directing, so the stress of two huge events coinciding tore at every waking fiber within me to give up. 

As I sat in the audience watching the night of the dance concert, I really did tear up, to see all the 1-2 months of rehearsing come alive for 3 minutes. It’s what really made me fall in love with dance, and even more so to have my best friend xchristyy be my star dancer alongside. Looking back not with more experience I cringe at the sloppiness of the set, but for my first time, I’m proud of putting something together and having a really warm reception from the audience, overhearing from some that it was their favorite of the night too. 

Album Art

yungkawaiiinigga:

September Love (Daft Punk x Earth Wind & Fire)

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOLYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

(Source: spagheppi)

Played 98627 times.

acidicmoons:

kids with broken legs dont have to do PE but kids with social anxiety still have to do public speaking, isnt there a problem there

Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness clouds our minds. We think too much, we feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity.  More than cleverness, we need kindness, gentleness. 

Album Art

Watsky Feat. Passion. 

You think time stops dead where love begins.

Played 8 times.

The questions that always stab at my conscious revolve around how I feel when things ended between the two of us.

It’s a wretched and deplorable feeling. But I will not bring myself to say anything near that context, because I will continue looking at it through any positive lens I can. Break-ups have never been easy, even more so the end of something that was not yet stable enough to be a “break-up”. And that’s what hurts. That’s the most painful part. 

Almost

Just a little longer, a little more time with you, one more date, who knows. We were steady, and I was proud to say that to others. But when things ended, I swore that I would not let it end on a bad note. As the storm came tearing through the household I childishly began to build for us in my mind, I refused to buckle down and instead listened to the beauty of the windchimes. If it was going to end, I wanted it to be an end that leaves me happy for everything that happened. 

So when people ask me about if I’ve ever been in love, I just tell them “It was the best phase of my life”. 

vvaddles:

european dude: *struggles to speak english with a heavy accent*

everyone: omg how adorable!!!

south asian dude: *struggles to speak english with a heavy accent*

everyone: uh wow lol go back to your country

"I always come back to you. You know what? I don’t fuckin care if they think I am mad. I have so many reasons to be crazy. These reasons are valid. See? This is why I don’t drink with ‘friends’ anymore. I know at the end of the night, I’ll see my body fold itself into nothingness like a clam that’s too afraid of the waves. I’ll break down. Then I’ll hear them say, “here we go again.” I pretend I don’t hear them say that. My hands are light and shaking. My mouth is dry and spicy. In my head, I say fuck this people. Fuck this drink. Fuck this night. Yes here we go again because this insane longing is crawling in my veins like razorblades. I can’t deny the presence of this familiar sadness that demands to be felt every now and then. I drink to be brave. So I could say your name and pretend I didn’t. To make them believe they are the one hallucinating, to make them believe they are hearing things they are not supposed to hear. They are crazy and me? I’m just sad. But I’m the most normal person you could bump into in this little space of awkwardness they call ‘bar’. If I’m being honest, this is the most sober I could be. This is the time when my head is the clearest and the wildest. I love my thoughts. They don’t require burning. My hands are trembling but so does this earth yet nobody notices. My eyes are overspilling with water and water is good. I am not happy but does it mean I won’t be? I may be lonely now but aren’t we all? You’re just good at hiding it. So I’d rather be in this fuckin floor right now with my messy hair and sentiments. I’d rather wake up tomorrow in another friend’s house and think of ways to apologize without sounding desperate and pitiful. I’ll go home and I swear to god, I wish you’re there holding my back while I throw up. There’s always honey water. There’s always my feet. There’s forgetting. I always come back to you. But I’m almost there."
irishjulienne, almost sober (via talkingoutsoft)
"You grow up and you aren’t what
you said you wanted to be.
You grow up and you want to start
all over again.
They took away the dance in you
and they laughed when you tried to bring the music back.
So you paint pictures in gasoline
and wait for the fire.
So you wait for somebody to show up
and find empty doorways.
So you call your mother and almost tell
her about the monster under your bed,
how it won’t stop growling even
after the sun comes up.
This is what is left.
And the years go on and you almost
think you aren’t going to get better.
You almost think that whatever
has it’s claws in you won’t let go.
But the bruises melt back into your skin
and the broken limbs heal
and your hands find each other
again and again until
that feeling of loneliness
was just an aching dream you
had a few years back
that you can only remember in flashes, but never enough for it to stay."
— Y.Z, first aid kit (via rustyvoices)
"You’re not my first love but you’re
the first I’ve loved like this. I
wonder if everything before you
was just practice, like stretching
my arms out so I could hold you
better. You’re like a song I’ve
heard before, but never at full
volume; you’re the end chorus
with all the instruments in."
anne, it was all building up to this (via anneisrestless)

It’s interesting to note that when I look around in my seemingly empty room I am reminded that this is all i have. I used to be a sentimental hoarder who would keep all little nametags from volunteer events, all badges from cross country/track meets, all the letters/cards close friends have written to me, and practically everything that once crossed my life as me being involved in something. 

Every year I would buy a yearbook and have as many people sign it as possible that I talked to, even if it wasn’t many, because I always looked ahead in thinking that I would like to be reminded of the “good times”. Even after I graduated high school, I would periodically look back at my high school yearbooks to read the comments in need of reassurance that I am someone worth something. I have always needed reassurance. 

I’ve moved out and been on my own for practically 3 years now, and currently my room has nothing. No awards, no medals, no letters, no memories. I have a box of clothes, my laptop, a few makeshift accessories (mixed martial arts gear/nerf guns/board games), but that is all. I have left my past behind me, because I have learned that those who are unable to leave things behind aren’t able to prosper as much going forward. Those items were memory holders, and the way I look at them now, if I need an item to link a memory, then the memory isn’t worth looking back at.