thedarklordluci:

wecallthem-miracles:

cameryncats:

vaeugly:

stupid-face-karen:

dikhead:

this would sort of explain déjà vu

well fuck

do we continue in the cycle? and never actually escape? because we “die” at the end, and after “dying” we dream the 7 minutes again, just each time the 7 minutes are actually shorter so in reality we could ALL be dead and living within the span of an elongated second and earth could actually not even exist anymore

what the fuck dude

Hey, who turned out the lights? Hey, who turned out the lights? Hey, who turned out the lights?

I see the whovians have arrived right on schedule

thedarklordluci:

wecallthem-miracles:

cameryncats:

vaeugly:

stupid-face-karen:

dikhead:

this would sort of explain déjà vu

well fuck

do we continue in the cycle? and never actually escape? because we “die” at the end, and after “dying” we dream the 7 minutes again, just each time the 7 minutes are actually shorter so in reality we could ALL be dead and living within the span of an elongated second and earth could actually not even exist anymore

what the fuck dude

Hey, who turned out the lights? Hey, who turned out the lights? Hey, who turned out the lights?

I see the whovians have arrived right on schedule

my sister just told my family that I’m only wearing underwear when I sleep and that I go topless sometimes in our room. AND EVERYBODY LOSES THEIR MIND. WELL IT’S FUCKING HOT!!! I CAN’T STAND THE HOTNESS! I’M SOOOOO FUCKING SORRY! 

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”
On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 
Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 
This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”

On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 

Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. 
I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 

This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

emoking:

there may or may not be tears in my eyes

emoking:

there may or may not be tears in my eyes

horrorstorylilybanana1:

A letter for Misty… (part1)

Briarcliff bootycall

(x)

Sarah Paulson + Lily Rabe, PaleyFest