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i know i aint perfect i'm out here working for the throne..
fierrrrrrce:

Choies Outlet 50% Off, Free Shipping Worldwide

fierrrrrrce:

Choies Outlet 50% Off, Free Shipping Worldwide


printalloverme:

can’t stop listening to #fkatwigs #twoweeks #gold

printalloverme:

can’t stop listening to #fkatwigs #twoweeks #gold


orientaltiger:

I’ve been planning my wedding as of late but there’s one thing missing……………… I don’t know if I want a seating chart or not……

Oh and I also don’t have a significant other but that’s just a minor detail

This is so me. Lollll


orientaltiger:

Azuma Makoto and his team sent plants into space

Plants on the earth rooted in the soil, under the command of gravity. Within the harsh “nature”, at an attitude of 30,000 meters and minus 50 degrees Celsius, the plants evolve into exbiota (extraterrestrial life). A pine tree confronting the ridge line of the Earth. A bouquet of flowers marching towards the sun hit by the intense wind. Freed from everything, the plants shall head to the space.


Here is the simple truth about people: Love the ones you want to keep.

(via nicolezai)

theclearlydope:

Ohhh, free samples!!!
[via]

theclearlydope:

Ohhh, free samples!!!

[via]


Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I have already heard the word rubbed raw across the flesh of so many girls before me. Thrown at them like rocks that beat the skin of those we do not understand. “You are beautiful,” we yell with such contempt. “God dammit, why won’t you just believe me, you’re beautiful!” It is not a compliment. It is a victory march of your own self sacrifice. “You’re beautiful,” we say through gritted teeth. “You’re beautiful,” we spit out through tears, looking at a reflection we hate. “You’re beautiful,” we say, holding a body that has never felt the arms of another. “You’re beautiful.” Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. A word like that floats on the surface, give me something with depth. Tell me I’m intelligent. Tell me I’m courageous. Tell me that when I laugh the whole world smiles. Tell me that my voice is sweeter than strawberries. Remind me that my hands have helped flowers grow, painted the ocean, and captured the sky in my phone. Assure me that with a mind like mine, I can change the world. Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I don’t really care if it’s true. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that beauty goes through and through. Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I’ve felt the word splatter against me enough for a lifetime. I am better than the “beautiful” that slips from your lips. I am the ocean, 36,000 feet deep. There are parts of me you have never seen. I am outer space, infinite in your search. I am not simply “beautiful.” I’m a fucking masterpiece.

Unknown  (via spinals)

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