the most interesting things i say are in my tags, not in my posts. i talk shit. a lot of shit. about everything. i'm judgmental of tv and movies and my life, but not of others. i like to help people as much as i can and i'm an extremely passionate person, which means i care a lot. sometimes i wish i didn't care so much and sometimes i'm thankful for it. i'm thankful for my friends and everyone who has stood by me through everything. i talk a lot. i rant a lot. i hate a lot. but i also love a lot. i reblog a lot of posts about fashion and about sex. and also whatever looks interesting. i love followers.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
MUST REBLOG
i love my new jammies
getting packages from Frederick’s of Hollywood ALWAYS makes my life better. so fuck this week, but i got another package(:
when i’m depressed or upset i eat, drink, and buy underwear. seriously.
but i got these cute jammies. they’re silky and soft and came with a cami top and long pants but they ALSO have cute little booty shorts for the summer time. loveeeeeeeeeeeee
fact
you only get a shit load of followers if you’re cute -__-
then YOU should get a shit load of followers(:
These posters are amazing!! I want them on my living room walls right now!!
one day we will be remembered
i was thinking of this song the whole time!
crying crying crying
jaszyfiszle started following you
the first thing i thought of when i saw your name was a missy elliot song. js.
anyway, THANKS FOR FOLLOWING! <33
(Source: tonsofphotographyxox)
awww
carols is my number one tumblr crush
totally gonna plan to visit ducky this summer.
(:
you should visit meee
aren’t you in california, miss elle? KINDA far. ducky’s close-ish.
yessssss…
but i’m awesome!
and california is (:
(Source: feelso-untouched)
There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It’s like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction — every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it’s really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour.
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (via thechocolatebrigade)
