love always, charlie

my thoughts run in circles so this is where I put them.

brooklynhawaii:

hopeinsidelove:

You are strong | Source

Eloquently said …

stilllovingdisney:

flandusism:

"if you’re straight then why did you say she was hot"

yo i’m straight not blind

One time a nun at my school saw a hot guy and said “woah God did a nice job on that one” and we all looked at her like ??? and she goes “I’m allowed to look at the menu I just can’t order”

(Source: winchestersaints, via depressed-harmer01)

January 23, 2014 With 804,058 notes × REBLOG THIS POST
cloud-wing:

kitkaty12:

and3hhpants:

lavieenplatine:

speakinghearts:

barackfuckingobama:


DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW
GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY
YOU’RE SO FUCKING SLOW
AND FAT, WHAT DO YOU WEIGH
HA-HA-HA
YOU CAN’T FUCKING SING
I’LL START A FUCKING FIGHT
GET OUT MY WAY YOU FUCKING HO
I’M DRIVING HERE TONIGHT 
JINGLE BELLS, GO TO HELL
GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY
OH WHAT FUN IT IS TO RIDE
OVER BODIES EVERY DAY (HEY)
JINGLE BELLS, GO TO HELL
BITCH WHAT DID I SAY
RUN THAT ASS CUZ YOU CAN’T HIDE
FROM MY MOTHERFUCKING SLEIGH
HEY

EVERY YEAR AROUND THIS TIME
THIS POST COMES BACK

ETS BACK. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

why have I never seen this I’m dead.

I sang along out loud. No shame.

It’s my Christmas song

Responding code 3
dichotomization:

The suicide note. A collection of words written impulsively in a crazed frenzy, or carefully, thoughtfully agonized over, so each word fits and flows seamlessly. Highly choreographed, overly manipulated, driven by madness, or calmly articulated - it doesn’t matter. Each note is the same, each note is different - a last word leaving no room for rebuttal. Suicide notes are meant to explain, revoke sympathy, provide understanding, answer questions, or create new ones. They beg for forgiveness, confess deep, dark secrets, or attempt to hide things. Some point fingers, sharing the truth and thus setting off a spree of investigations.
Excerpts from some famous suicides:
Jules Pascin:  “Lucy, Pardonnez-moi,”
Hunter S. Thompson: “Football Season is Over. No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax This won’t hurt.”
Sylvia Plath: “Please call Dr. Horder.”
Dorothy Dandridge: “In case of my death, to whomever discovers it, don’t remove anything I have on - scarf, gown or underwear. Cremate me right away. If I have anything, money, furniture, give it to my mother Ruby Dandridge. She will know what to do.
Virginia Woolf: “I feel certain that I’m going mad again. I feel we can’t go thru another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do.”
Spalding Gray: “It’s an old story you’ve heard over and over. My life is coming to an end. Everything is in my head now. My timing is off. In the last two years I’ve had at least ten therapists and all those shock treatments. Suicide is a viable alternative for me instead of going to an institution. I don’t want an audience. I don’t want anyone to see me slip into the water.”
Wendy O. Williams: “I don’t believe that people should take their own lives without deep and thoughtful reflection over a considerable period of time.”
Clara Blandick: “I am now about to make the great adventure. I cannot endure this agonizing pain any longer. It is all over my body. Neither can I face the impending blindness. I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.”
James Whale: “The future is just old age and illness and pain…. I must have peace and this is the only way.”
Sid Vicious: “We made a death pact, and I have to accomplish my part of the deal. Please bury me next to my baby. Please bury me with my leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle boots. Goodbye. With love, Sid.”
Per Yngve Ohlin: “Excuse all the blood.”
oh-teen-posts:

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