You don’t have to be a parent to understand the horror of walking into a room to discover that the baby crawled out of his crib and onto that pottery wheel you forgot to turn off. And while the baby is spinning around and around, the dog is sitting there all calm, like a person, gently using his paws to fashion the baby’s soft cartilage head into something a little more modern. It might be the classic tale of bad parenting, but let’s see where the dog is going with this.
WE RIDE TIL WE DIE
|—||the 1975. (via youthpalm)|
why are you all so mad that young girls are expressing themselves through writing poetry and comparing themselves to storms? god help us girls are doing the same thing critically acclaimed old white men have been doing for years
growing up i always thought that quicksand was going to be a much bigger problem than it turned out to be