from left to right;
I am afraid to hold my boyfriend’s hand.
My friend’s parents sent her away.
I found death threats in my locker.
I submitted to electroshock therapy.
I lost half my friends after coming out.
My grandmother sends me hate mail.
My school won’t let me take my date to prom.
I am not here anymore.
My dad tried to beat it out of me.
No one is proud of me.
This showed up on my blog again. Forever reblog.
The “I am not here anymore.”
Oh my. This hit hard.
i don’t even care that this isn’t black and white.
Its always the “I’m not here anymore” that gets me
‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’
what if i cut off your left leg
would that make you stronger
Finally the Monty Python fandom awakens
We were never asleep, we’ve just been out trying to find the right shubbery.
(2) Tumblr on @weheartit.com - http://whrt.it/ZT2xtJ
Okay so Ive informed my cousin of his fame
And he finds it very very amusing
He also is greatly amused that the ‘cousin matt’ fandom is actually a thing
(even though he isnt sure what exactly that means)
Also he gave me permission to give you guys another picture
So here you go SPN fandom
what’s with his hand is cousin matt okay :(
This is a valuable lesson
I spent 500 dollars on 200 space jam vhs tapes
it was worth it
fuck no it wasn’t
yes it was you fucker do you ever wake up in the morning and think to yourself
‘everybody get up, it’s time to slam now We got a real jam goin’ down Welcome to the Space Jam Here’s your chance, do your dance at the Space Jam, alright’
It’s 200 years in the future. The earth is rebuilding after the fourth nuclear war destroyed our environment. Explorers and archaeologists dig into the layers of soot and rubble once known as the United States of America. All of them wearing protective armor and helmets so they can breathe outside the domed cities that now pepper the Earth. Their mechanical drills pierce through cold concrete, breaking through to a basement from the Before World. There, amidst the dust and cobwebs, lies a plastic container.
A pair of technicians drop down. They approach the box slowly, carefully. One licks his lips in anticipation. Simultaneously, they pry the lid open. They gaze inside. Layer upon layer of black boxes, all adorned with identical stickers to mark their front. “Space Jam”, they read in a language now spoken only by Before World scholars.
Blinking away the tears in his eyes, a technician activates his communication device, speaking to the dig crew at the surface. “Gentlemen… Call the King-Emperor. Tell him we’ve found it. Tell him… It’s time to slam.”
It takes a “special” sort of person to fall for his own joke
Composure is without a doubt my favorite song lyrically by ABR. Such incredible, inspiring lyrics.
Really close to my heart, so I figured I’d make a lyric picture for it haha.
KONICA MINOLTA ALPHA-7 DIGITAL
q’d :) boarding school wifi’s blocked tumblr :( ૐ
i followback everyone ☯