(Source: Flickr / edenvictoria, via palides)
(Source: Flickr / edenvictoria, via palides)
Up rolls a riot van
(Source: am-mu, via theignorantyouth-deactivated201)
(Source: paintedfire, via martindumont)
(via jarrodis)
Llama love.
(Source: soursparkle)
Someone recently told me that this summer was basically the last summer I had.
He told me a few weeks ago, already towards the end of the summer, so I was already feeling resentful about this statement.
“You’re only sixteen,” he admonished, superior in that way that only college students with cell phone backgrounds of refrigerators full of beer can be. “Next year is going to be all about your big essay that no one gives a shit about if you don’t do well on your SATs, then after you’re trying to find an internship or something that will look good and give you “real life experience,” and then you’re in real life and wondering what happened. Well actually, this summer is kinda bullshit too, because you’re test prepping and everything.” It didn’t help that all of the adults within a 10 foot radius were asking about my college plans either.
So began my mid-high school crisis.
I started wondering…my synapses flitting through every cliche imaginable (why must our culture keep running toward some elusive “next step”? why does it matter, as long as we are happy? why must we work so hard to achieve what will only give our children the same anxiety we have right now?) and then mentally berating myself for those (I’ve seen all the “Race to Nowhere” type movies, I’ve had all the worried-parent talks, I have actually had a good summer amongst the SAT prep) and eventually leaving me with somewhat of a blank slate.
What does it mean to realize you’re almost done? I don’t know yet.
I remember a picture-holder plaque my mom put up in my room when I went into First Grade; it held 12 slots (each with a little doodle corresponding to the grade…I think 11th grade is a violin for some reason), and each year since then, I have put my awkward school photos in the slot. I have two more to go, and soon I will only have one. One year, one photo, (really) one more summer. Can I let go? I don’t know yet.
I guess I will just have to keep building bucket lists, jotting down plots of stories that will never be written (at least, not with my current Junior year schedule), and scattering dandelion puffs into a million parachutes of seeds. I will just keep wishing on them, and vow never to watch Toy Story 3 again.
(via soursparkle)
He’s pining for her
In a people carrier
There might be buildings and pretty things to see like that
But architecture won’t do
Although it might say a lot about the city or town
I don’t care what they’ve got keep on turning them down
It don’t say the funny things she does
Don’t even try and cheer him up, because
It just won’t happen
He’s got the feeling again
This time on the aeroplane
There might be tellys in the back of the seats in front
But Rodney and Del won’t do
Although it might take your mind off the aches and the pains
Laugh when he falls through the bar
But you’re feeling the same
‘Cause she isn’t there to hold your hand
She won’t be waiting for you when you land
It feels like she’s just nowhere near
You could well be out on your ear
This thought comes closely followed by the fear
And the thought of it
Makes you feel a bit
Ill
Yesterday I saw a girl
Who looked like someone you might knock about with
And almost shouted
And then reality kicked in within us
It seems as we become the winners
You lose a bit of summat
And half wonder if you won it at all
And don’t say ‘owt ‘cause you’ve got no idea
And she’s still nowhere near
And the thought comes closely followed by the fear
And the thought of it
Makes you feel a bit
…Ill
Despair in the departure lounge
It’s one and they’ll still be around at three
No signal and low battery
What’s happened to me
(Source: electricfeeling)
It’s that ancient love
That you won’t outgrow
It’s the fee you pay
It’s the debt you owe
(Source: flickr.com, via palides)
