shitpostmemeboy:

dogmemes:

hoodbypussy:

Évolution inversée

he looked old for 14

“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
― Pablo Picasso

(via f-artsy)

"How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words."

David Foster Wallace, The Pale King (via fourteendrawings)

bricksandmortarandchewinggum:

holdmypurse:

Remember when Romney lost the election so somebody created White People Mourning Romney and collected various people crying over Romney’s loss

Still so funny.

This is what dreams are made of

(via alittlebitfurther)

good times…

(Source: wellfvck, via kitkatkatiekat)

blackpaint20:

Giovanni Martinelli (ca. 1600-1659) 

Death appears at the banquet ca.1635 

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

shadywarriorprincess:

THANK! i’ve been waiting for this <3

(Source: scarerants, via wealthypizzalover)

"For a long time, memory researchers assumed that memories were like volumes stored in a library. When your brain remembered something, it was simply searching through the stacks and then reading aloud from whatever passage it discovered. But some scientists now believe that memories effectively get rewritten every time they’re activated, thanks to a process called reconsolidation. To create a synaptic connection between two neurons the associative link that is at the heart of all neuronal learning you need protein synthesis. Studies on rats suggest that if you block protein synthesis during the execution of learned behavior pushing a lever to get food, for instance the learned behavior disappears. It appears that instead of simply recalling a memory that had been forged days or months ago, the brain is forging it all over again, in a new associative context. In a sense, when we remember something, we create a new memory, one that is shaped by the changes that have happened to our brain since the memory last occurred to us."

Slate Magazine, “The Science of Eternal Sunshine by Steven, March 22, 2004

(via evoketheforms)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

"

What To Do When Your Boyfriend’s Asshole Best Friend Says, “Hey, Never Trust Anything That Bleeds For Seven Days And Doesn’t Die,
Right?”
OR The Only Poem I’ll Ever Write About Periods.

Don’t excuse him because he’s had
at least three lite beers
and is sweating through his black button down
that his mom or exgirlfriend
probably bought him.
Don’t excuse him because he’s been turned down
by the last six girls he went on dates with
after meeting them on tindr
with a picture that’s seven years old
Don’t excuse him because
he’s usually such a nice guy
because you don’t want to be a bitch
because you don’t want to cause a scene
because when you were seventeen
your sister told you
no one likes an angry feminist

Tell him,
Hey, Asshole:
Let me explain something to you.
Every goddamn motherfucking month since I was eleven,
a part of me
tore itself to shreds
ripped itself apart inside me
and then remade itself.

So yes, I bleed for seven days
and I don’t die
You know what else can do that?
Gods.
Immortal beings.
Things of legend.
Fuck, I can even
create life.

So I say, never trust anything that can’t
bleed for seven days and not die.
You know what that makes it?
Weak
Fallible
Mortal.
So let’s see, hon,
What you’re made of.
If you can bleed for seven days
and not die.

Rip out his jugular with your teeth.
And when he bleeds for seven seconds
and dies,
spit on his corpse and say,
I thought not.

"

Pill poppin
Penis lovin
Satans girl

(Source: chabeonsky, via peach-juices)