Giving up this tumblr thing. Bye!
The provinces and territories of Canada.
If you follow me and you live in Canada, can you do me a favour?
I need you to seriously consider letting me live with you for a week or two because, I just, I need Canada.
I can’t click my reblog button hard enough
It’s not just the ladies who get insecure, it’s all of us. It’s a human trait, yo.
Fricken’ beautiful. Everything that I want to say about this has been said in the post above me.
you can’t stop me from reblogging this over and over again
Playing pretend never gets old. When we’re adults, we tend to limit it to daydreaming, but when we’re kids? We interact with our environment and pretend to be our heroes and favorite characters. Tree branches become lightsabers, or a trash can becomes a perfect substitute for R2-D2′s body. Everything is about playing. Artist Craig Davison captures those moments perfectly with his shadow series.(x)
"I kill people and I love it. I know nine million ways to kill a body and I love every one of them. All dull day every day right up until I hit the hay I think of bodies bodies slit right up the middle and shared across a hundred nice little gardens. And when I sleep I dream of ways to kill a body that ain’t nobody thought of yet. And occasionally I dream of mom and pop squirting into that old garbage disposal and just grinding and gnawing on the old man’s skull.
You’re probably asking, ‘Why do I kill?’ Well, simple answer is— it’s pretty. Waking up in the morning and knowing you’re going to kill someone, it’s a beautiful thing. Makes me feel like a gunship— like my engine’s only turning over when I’m moving and killing. Makes me feel like God on the first Monday morning. I kill because it makes me feel like I’m on TV, with my own personal soundtrack.
You wouldn’t believe the hundreds of different ways a body dances once a bullet’s been put in it. The songs they sing when you cut their throats. The patterns they paint when you make ‘em squirt. It’s art. I kill because it’s pretty. It’s art.
It’s a dull old world on the surface, ain’t it? All grey and nondescript. But That’s a lie. Scratch the surface and you reveal the real world, all red and raw and senseless. And that’s the world I like, the world I show you when I kill. The world I am.
I’m the end of the world as we know it and I feel like a drink.
I’m chaos. You can’t kill CHAOS. And you can’t keep it locked up for long.”