My Great Perhaps

Life, love, and quiet yearnings

hurpadootdoot:

romeoisadick:

inbox:

inbox:

in Canada they don’t pronounce Z as "zee"

they pronounce it as "zed" and that is crazy to me

it sounds like they made a typo when they invented it

They do that everywhere in the world that’s not America. We do that here in the UK too.
America is weird man.

(via pizza)

anglosexual:

undeadthug:



guess where abstinence-only education is taught

anglosexual:

undeadthug:

guess where abstinence-only education is taught

(Source: thegodlessatheist, via pizza)

Closer

dearoldlove:

Nobody is unique and pretty like they describe in books but you made me feel like that, like some sort of quirky poet on the subway listening to a Joy Division song while tapping my feet to the drums, making it look like I was a rarity of this dull washed out world.

(Source: wellfvck, via nunsnroses)

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being “in love”, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.”

—   Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (via observando)

Oh.

(via fleetwoodmac--sexpants)

tylerknott:


Typewriter Series #755 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

I want this. I want that. I want photos of us. I want to be proud of us out loud. I want to kiss you. I want to smile and laugh. I want to make you giggle and I want to make you sigh and I want to take your breath away and I want to dance with you at people’s weddings and I want to pick you up and carry you when your feet are tired and I want to wait until you are Almost asleep and then kiss your nose and make you laugh so hard with some secret joke that your belly hurts and you smack me for waking you all the way up so we have to get out of bed and sit and watch the city lights while eating a bowl of cereal at 1:38 am. I want to smell you fresh from a shower and paint your toenails and take you to baseball games and teach you hidden things that are going on that most people don’t know. I want us. I want the smell of pancakes when it’s me that cooks them and the sun hasn’t yet woken.  I want the smell of dinner when it’s us that burned it because we fell to the floor and made love instead.  I want the handprints on car windows, steamed up from the inside.  I want long baths followed by short showers and the scent of your shampoo staining my hands for the entire day to follow.  I want ears that hear the words I spill instead of eyes that read them.  I want notebooks black with ink from all the details I noticed from all the times I sat and marveled at the way you spin through an hour.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #755 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I want this. I want that. I want photos of us. I want to be proud of us out loud. I want to kiss you. I want to smile and laugh. I want to make you giggle and I want to make you sigh and I want to take your breath away and I want to dance with you at people’s weddings and I want to pick you up and carry you when your feet are tired and I want to wait until you are Almost asleep and then kiss your nose and make you laugh so hard with some secret joke that your belly hurts and you smack me for waking you all the way up so we have to get out of bed and sit and watch the city lights while eating a bowl of cereal at 1:38 am. I want to smell you fresh from a shower and paint your toenails and take you to baseball games and teach you hidden things that are going on that most people don’t know. I want us. I want the smell of pancakes when it’s me that cooks them and the sun hasn’t yet woken.  I want the smell of dinner when it’s us that burned it because we fell to the floor and made love instead.  I want the handprints on car windows, steamed up from the inside.  I want long baths followed by short showers and the scent of your shampoo staining my hands for the entire day to follow.  I want ears that hear the words I spill instead of eyes that read them.  I want notebooks black with ink from all the details I noticed from all the times I sat and marveled at the way you spin through an hour.
maya47000:

Help build more handicap facilities

This is great marketing.

maya47000:

Help build more handicap facilities

This is great marketing.

(via goodstuffhappenedtoday)

oh-deir:

ACTUAL MESSAGE OF (500) DAYS OF SUMMER THAT NO ONE ACTUALLY REALIZES

(via pizza)

elizabitchtaylor:

she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts

she’s cheer captain and I respect her right to wear whatever she wants and participate in traditionally ‘feminine’ activities because I understand that life is not about condemning another woman’s personal choices just because she doesn’t ‘deserve’ the boy i have a crush on

(via pizza)

(Source: kazzg, via pizza)

aliciaaadanielle:

ellie-smelly:

I love this too much not to post it

Dude when he runs into the wall and it says wrong I just

aliciaaadanielle:

ellie-smelly:

I love this too much not to post it

Dude when he runs into the wall and it says wrong I just

(via pizza)