Too Old Yet Too Young


I'm not the best at descriptions, probably because a paragraph can't describe the organized chaos that is me. So just check out my blog and tell me what you think? C:

No Question Left Unasked

Source: hellyeahhorrormanga

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Tumblr’s National Anthem

Rule #3 Of Tumblr :
ALWAYS RE-BLOG THE NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

Source: randomness-is-epic

落書き詰め。 | artist: クライン

Source: monochrossroad

Source: joekage

takeasecondtolisten:

that’s how i feel so often

takeasecondtolisten:

that’s how i feel so often

Source:

Source: the-subside

Source: -dandelions

Source: de-feated

Source: xbeautifuldeathx

xlexii-060111x:

alot.

xlexii-060111x:

alot.

Source: bit.ly

Source: ooeziooo

Source: ilustro

My dad took my kitten Baby to the vet today. Her eye had exploded. She’s blind in that eye now, and we have to give her an antibiotic and put a salve on her eye. She had herpes in her eye, and it completely wrecked her eye. My baby is getting better though. :)

getoutoftherecat:

get out of there cat. you are not important files to be kept in an office.

getoutoftherecat:

get out of there cat. you are not important files to be kept in an office.

Source: getoutoftherecat

I notice everything.

And by everything, I literally mean everything. I notice when someone stops hitting me up like they used to. I notice when the way someone talks to me starts changing. I notice the little things that people do, and the little things they used to do. I notice when things change, and when it’s no longer the same. I notice every single little detail. I just don’t say anything.


Honestly, I notice most things when they’re about people. I can tell when my relationship with somebody is weakening, when someones upset, their way of speaking and their tone of voice, and their body language. I notice how they sit, how they focus, how they accept information, and the way they smile, not their fake “I’m fine, honestly.” smile, their REAL smile. When these things are off, or slightly different, I notice. I really, really notice. Sometimes I ask what’s wrong, sometimes I don’t. I regret not saying anything, for fear that I could of prevented something. That I had the chance to save someone, but I chose not to. That someone had jumped, but my arms were to weak to catch them.

Source: dinhtheresa