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(via:thisismydisease)
(via leparis)
(via blua)
Patrick, I love you with all my heart, but I think you’re sexier when you’re chubby. :x
Reid’s dad is so sweet!
I love you, Reidykins. You and your daddy. :D
<3
brb crying tears of joy.
What the fuck is so great about the following bands?
- A Day To Remember
- Bring Me The Horizon
- Attack Attack!
- Breathe Carolina
- Underoath
- August Burns Red
- Alesana
- The Devil Wears Prada
- Dance Gavin Dance
- Emarosa
- Blessthefall
- Drop Dead Gorgeous
- A Skylit Drive
I see people go apeshit about these bands, but I find nothing extraordinary, nor unique about any of these bands.
And could someone also tell me why most kids that listen to those bands have no appreciation for the following bands?
- The Beatles
- The Ramones
- The Misfits
- The Who (the first band to ever scream, bee tee dubz)
- Black Sabbath
- Bob Dylan
- Led Zeppelin
- At the Drive-In
- Refused
- Botch
- Thrice
- Minor Threat
- Black Flag
- Bad BrainsLike, do you kids understand that those are the bands that helped pioneer the shitty music you guys get off on?
Sorry for the h8rade, Tumblr. Long week of finals <333
I appreciate you.
(via twiddledee)
(via omegalomaniacc)
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ve told
us, but listening to you I wasn’t sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, ” her, print her, she’s mad but she’s
magic. there’s no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.
This will always remind me of a certain boy.
(via flickflickflicker)
