(Source: vndrew)

(Source: hastii)

Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.

(Source: pastelgiggles)

(Source: healthybuddha)

 蛍兎 || topikou

what are “bikinis” and where can I purchase them in “body” form?

(Source: foreveerfascinated)

(Source: kushandwizdom)

(Source: makemestfu)