Love Drunk.

britt muller Australia.

weaknudes:

waking up cold: alright I need more blankies

waking up hot: covers thrown everywhere. sweat behind the kneecaps. 3 dead. the pillow is the sun. critical condition.

(Source: thiccthot, via k-eelz)

Sometimes I regret being nice, apologizing when I didn’t do anything wrong, and for making unworthy people a priority in my life

—(via california-luxe)

(via k-eelz)

Wanna know the fucking truth? Nobody is fucking happy. Nobody has skin made from oil paint and sunlight. Nobody fucking understands this world. Fuck, nobody understands math as much as they claim. You’re here one day and the next you’re not. God? Religion? I’ve learned a lot more about the world by eating acid and swallowing pills. Tell me what your church has done for you? Tell me if you have holes in your mouth from speaking lies? Wanna know the fucking truth? Pity is just another word for pathetic. Drink beer and watch the sunrise from every rooftop. Take photographs naked. Take photographs kissing. Take photographs having sex. Stop making everything about sexuality. Wanna know the fucking truth? Nobody really gives a damn if you lost your virginity at fourteen or if you were the president in high school. Wanna know the fucking truth? There is no such thing as the right person. People leave. They change like ocean currents, they leave you with bruises in your calves. And you wanna know the fucking truth? You get better. You learn to love. You find God in between the cracks of a wall when you’re puking your limbs out. You wanna know the fucking truth? Go find it.

—something someone should have told me when i was eighteen    (via andie-aWoah (via vanilla-daisies)

(Source: irynka, via piercingsandink)

Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.

—John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via kushandwizdom)