I drink to the ruined house,
To the evil of my life,
To our shared loneliness
And I drink to you-
To the lie of lips that betrayed me,
To the deadly coldness of the eyes,
To the fact that the world is cruel and depraved,
To the fact that God did not save.
— Anna Akhmatova, The Last Toast.  June 27, 1934 (via midnightineurope)
I spent my life folded between the pages of books.
In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters. I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association. My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.
— Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me (via observando)
  • My reaction to every inconvenience : at least real madrid won la decima


isn’t it nice that JLo and Pitbull made a separate song dedicated to Neymar


  • Neuer: And this children, is the story of how I was the best player in the German national team.
  • Kids: But Dad, we thought you were only the goalkeeper?
  • Neuer:
  • Kids:
  • Neuer:
  • Kids:
  • Neuer: I was everything and everyone.


everyone tell me abt ur day. how did your eyeliner go? did u flirt with somebody? drink enough water? make a white man nervous?


seeing people in ouija board sweaters