shmexa

palahniukandchocolate:

bohemea:elvira:nightmarebrunette:jonathanclassof99:blatino:

In Istanbul, grown men walk together with their elbows linked. Schoolboys sit with a draped arm forgotten around the other’s shoulders. College students would ruffle one another’s hair. It was deeply affecting to be in the midst of a culture where men were allowed to touch one another in a way that was not sexual and not violent but simply fraternal.

(Source: j-jacks)

(Source: thetvscreen)

librarysciences:

And a quarter to ninety percent of the cells that make up that person aren’t even human.

sincesheleft:

“No, no. You don’t get to just walk away from me, you selfish asshole. Tell me where you were?” She screamed out. Not that she actually wanted an answer, she just had to project her frustration in some way. 

It’s true though, all night I hadn’t been answering my phone, and I did leave early from work, and now, here she was. She found me at my favorite bar, dragged me out side to start an argument right on the sidewalk. I understood that she was angry because she cared, and that in the past, yeah we had fights like this before, about how I would disappear for a day or so, only to show up in the morning looking like hell, with sad regretful eyes. 

 But tonight, at this point I just wanted to go home, get some sleep, because, and she didn’t know this, I had been out with my brother looking at engagement rings all day. If you’ve never done it before I’ll say that it’s a pretty stressful process, and afterword I just needed a drink. So, anyways I went back inside, and closed my bartab and just said, “Lets go,” 

We went home, the cab ride was the worst, because I wanted to tell her, but I wanted to wait. 

I slept on the couch that night, but in the morning she was picking up around the apartment, and she looked into my jacket pocket and found the ring. She woke me up, she was in tears. We made love. Everything’s fine. 

[imgcred]

beautiful

kari-shma:

Snuggle (via Brr.)

sincesheleft:

I sit in my room contemplating distance.  Not just the 3,000 miles that separate us, that keep our hands from holding, our fingertips from touching, our lips from finding and discovering every inch of skin—but the distance that separates our hearts, the oceans of silence, the canyons of hate and despair, the rift between us that keeps us from saying, “I love you,” to each other.  The years that separate us both physically and emotionally, the leagues that keep our wounds from closing, the realization that you loved me too soon and I love you too late.

I wonder if one day, we will cross the distance and find each other again, if I’ll be able to let the words fall from my lips and tumble into your ears, if you will lay your head upon my heart and hear that every beat has always been your name and that the distance has never mattered and I will love you for as long as I can because you are everything I can possibly need and I love you, I love you, I love you.

Thanks, ohdeeandy!