Eddie Making Buck Chris’ Legal Guardian If He Dies Is Still So Funny To Me Years Later Because Like.

Siblings: I'll give you my kidney but you can't have a bite from my pudding

I stumbled upon a video on tiktok about how one would do anything for their siblings apart from something really simple. And you know it's true. All of those who have siblings know it's true. Of course, I am going to cover you to our parents when you are out getting tattoos, but no I am not taking the trash out for you.

My little brother had an "adventure" of sorts this summer and ended up in the hospital. He is completely fine, there is nothing to worry about now. But back then the doctors said that if he hadn't come to the hospital when he had, he would be in desperate need of a kidney transplant and probably a liver one as well. It goes without saying how worried my parents were. My older brother and I were too, but had there been the need, we would be racing towards the hospital to give him one of our kidneys. No questions asked, we would be there. And we know he would do the same too.

It's those things but also the most trivial that show how much you care about one another. It is how my little brother always picks up his phone when I call him, even when he is out clubbing. It's how whenever I call any of my brothers to keep me company while I walk home at night, they are always there with no complaints.

It's how they always check whether I am wearing my seatbelt before they start the car. They may not bring me my charger when I ask them to or tell me to go get a glass of water myself. But it's how they will pay for my coffee when we are out together and even remember my order. It's how I know they can tell when I am struggling.

So yeah, siblings. They get on your nerves. Most of the time you don't want to do what they tell you to, or don't want to give them your things. You always fight and snitch on each other over the stupidest things. BUT, they are a friend for life. You know that no matter what, they are there. Sometimes, I don't know what to do with this information. How lucky one can be, to have siblings right? No matter the scraped knees and the bruises from all the fights.

i don’t want to look “hot” i want to look alluring, haunting, bewitching. i want to look like the kind of person hozier would write a song about.

If you see this on your dash, it’s too late

((Reblog or Halloween won’t be celebrated. If you reblog this in 50 seconds, you’ll have the best Halloween and be blessed by the spoopy skeleton gods.))

((This skeleton will also break all chain mail or reblog or die posts and you’ll live a happy life.))

sigh…

The writer's blessing:

May you write 1,500 words with ease. May your characters be lively and not cardboard. May you need little editing. May your muse visit you as soon as you sit. May the Internet not distract you much. May your phone lie dormant while you write.

lazerprincess

this is a collection of her photos, drawings and her suicide note, 

this is so even if her mom deletes her blog, everything is saved, 

Common Phrases Correctly

Michael and Alan play a practical joke on Daniel during one of their takes. (x)

poetic beauty

the poetic beauty  i believe in  is a  writer’s naked voice describing the world in the only possible way, originality,  emptying  the one  brain like popcorn on the stove,  bubbling up,  rising  into the clouds through a skylight,  into the stars like the  eyes of a child,  into the unending night  and back again to a toaster,  to a  lightswitch,  to a  fan you  keep on for more than air, 

it’s the  greatest thing  we ever made,   and someday we’ll unmake  it,  with a look,  we’ll say:  jesus,  do you  remember  when language made us mad, crazy, gone like a bat in the daytime?

yes yes yes we remember, 

they were  disastrous,   letters, words, lines were a plague disguised,  they were poison in  the cake,  tsk tsk tsk no, 

it’ll be a great act,  we’ll shame ourselves,  the old us,  

but when  nobody’s watching, in bed when the outlights are on and  the inlights are off, 

we’ll  pull a book of poetry  from under the  pillow, 

we’ll finger the soft pages and  our eyes will glow  like burning diamonds,   the words the words the words will dance like peacocks,  irresisitble in the  hopeless expanse,  the hopeful warmth of a blanket,  tomorrow,  there’s that, and  yesterday  too,  but the  words have both  by the legs, 

the words in your head are killers,  are lovers,  are  the flight of a  flightless creature tasting the sky. 

when faced with the decision to write a poem or not write a poem,  i’m not sure how to  justify the  latter.