Read the Printed Word!
First day of grad school and what am I doing
If your ideas are bigger than the town you’re in, you’ve got to get out of there.
― Brian Fallon  (via her0inchic)

highwifi:

"I wonder what I should do today"

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When you find yourself drowning in self-hate, you have to remind yourself that you weren’t born feeling this way. That at some point in your journey, some person or experience sent you the message that there was something wrong with who you are, and you internalized those messages and took them on as your truth. But that hate isn’t yours to carry, and those judgments aren’t about you. And in the same way that you learned to think badly of yourself, you can learn to think new, self-loving and accepting thoughts. You can learn to challenge those beliefs, take away their power, and reclaim your own. It won’t be easy, and it won’t happen over night. But it is possible. And it starts when you decide that there has to be more to life than this pain you feel. It starts when you decide that you deserve to discover it.
― Daniell Koepke  (via her0inchic)
I’m so fucking sick of saying I’m sorry when I’m the one collapsed on the ground.
― (via oyclu)

abomasnow:

hell yeah i’m a catholic i’ve been addicted to cats my whole life

You’ll pry my Oxford comma from my cold, dead, and lifeless hands.
From 18 to 22 you meet a lot of temporary people.
― (via jordancorin)
So I’m a pansy.

I went to get gas a few minutes ago (yes, I realize it’s 2 in the morning and no I don’t care) and when I went inside to pay there was this precious gray cat outside. It walked right up to me, meowing like it was in pain. Then I noticed that it’s head was cocked to one side and it was limping on that side, as if it had an injury that prevented it from moving comfortably and I just started crying. 

I went inside and looked for cat food before I paid for my gas. I couldn’t find any, but I did find potted meat (which my cats at home LOVE) so I got that and left the open can there for the cat while i pumped my gas. 

The cat limped over to the can, and looked like it was eating (or trying to) so I felt a little better for the moment, but when I was done with the fuel the cat had walked away from the can, so I went to be sure it had eaten.  The potted meat hadn’t been touched.

I called the humane society—no luck. As much as I hated to do it, I called animal control.  They said if I couldn’t catch the cat, they likely couldn’t either, and that they’d send someone out in the morning during normal business hours. I made the lady promise not to hurt the cat, and that if the humane society wouldn’t take it, I would.

We’ll see if I get a call tomorrow. Damn Marathon clerk probably thinks I’m mental, crying while I buy gas and cigarettes and potted meat.