(Source: ohyoucrawledoutofthesea, via merde-merde)
And to my dad, who is ultimately the reason I am who I am today. My veins are filled with creativity, determination, stubbornness, passion, and self-discipline because of him. He’s one of the most gentle souls that I know. He can drive me absolutely crazy at times because we have the same personality yet not a lot in common, but I appreciate everything he’s done for me. It’s hard being across the country and only seeing him once or twice a year. Happy Father’s Day, putz!
Life was immeasurably better once I forced myself to stop taking it seriously. — Hunter S. Thompson (via perfect)
(Source: mongoloidporninferno, via e-west)
reveriebones asked: I'm sorry you're having a rough night, doll. I'm here if you ever need to talk. I know there are plenty of people that you can probably turn to but knowing you have another never hurts. I know how devastating it can feel to lose someone you love so young and so unexpectedly. I wish I could help it make sense to you but unfortunately I know that it just won't. I love that you express it and let the words flow though. I'm not sure what I believe but I'm certain that somehow they get the message.<5
Thank you for this. (And thank you to everyone, else, too, who has replied to any of the posts I’ve made about him with positive vibes and support. I’m sorry if I haven’t responded, but I definitely do appreciate all of it so much.) It helps to not feel alone in this, to be told that one day it will be okay. One day, maybe things will start to make sense again. And thank you for allowing me to feel this way. Sometimes I worry about talking about it too much and making people sick of the subject, or for destroying the mood because I feel like I need to talk about it. I’ve gotten a couple other supportive messages about me being so openly expressive about it, and I really, really appreciate that because that is the best way I cope with things. I write about them. Sometimes in private, sometimes in public. Sometimes I need the help, sometimes I don’t want it. So when I post it on here, I’m asking for it. And thank you for giving it to me. <3
I’ve spent weeks sewing up the calloused wounds from the loss of my friend. I couldn’t understand what death means even if I tried. Everything has felt surreal from the very moment I heard those words. “He didn’t make it.” I keep replaying it in my head. “He didn’t make it.” How was that an actual conversation I had? Why can’t I call him right now? For the past six weeks I have been patiently waiting until he can be set free, as if he’s simply been trapped in some foreign country with no cell phone service. In the back of my mind I’m expecting to hear from him again because none of this is real. And even though I look at his picture every morning, every afternoon, every night, seeing the one his sister posted tonight made all of the seams rip back open. I think I realized what this all means, at least for now. I’m sure I will wake up tomorrow thinking it was all a dream. But I only feel like this when it feels real. Helpless, loss, confused.
I keep writing him these letters, as if one day I’ll finally bump into him and show him everything. Show him the 500+ photos I found of him, the old iChat logs, the silly videos. I’ve been collecting and gathering everything to show him one day. And then it’s nights like tonight that make me feel like a giant puddle of worthlessness because I realize I can’t show him. I will never get to show him. I will never, ever see him again. I will never hear his voice again, see his smile, laugh with him. And I sit in my bed with my face shoved in my pillow, trying to catch my breath. I wonder if he can hear me right now, if he can see me. But I don’t believe that he can. I’d like to believe that, but I can’t. And so it feels like he’s even further away.
Just like that. In the blink of an eye. In one split second, he was probably laughing, and then mortified, and then gone. Why couldn’t we have raised money for his surgery instead of his urn? Why did it have to be this way?
I will never understand. I will never be okay with this.
I was in Vegas over the weekend and I stopped at his tree to tie his half of our friendship bracelet around it. I also drove past his house for the first time in two years. So many memories flooded my mind. Picking him up right after I got off work and taking him to my house, dropping him back off at 5am and staying out front until I knew he made it safely in the house because I didn’t trust his neighborhood. (Him always laughing about me being paranoid for no reason.) Catching a stray dog together and finding his owners. He’d always brag about his VW Bug every time we pulled up. Meeting his dogs and parakeets, and a couple times, hanging out with his sister and mom.
I love you, James Monterio. Happiest fucking human I have ever known. Thank you for the memories.
When will I be okay?
(Source: dailydoseofstuf, via kaitmpayne)
Something I’m going to try to do every Monday, set myself 3 goals to meet for the week. I encourage everyone else to give it a shot too! #weeklygoals2013
Adopt a Hungry Monster and he’ll paint a picture just for you! This is Lefty Lopside and he needs a home! #art #jessieshungry #cute #doll #plush
C’est mon petit copain. Il s’appelle Andy. Il a vingt quatre ans. Il âgé plus que moi. Il est gentil et timide, mais il est très amusant. Il a les cheveux noir et ondulés, et il a les yeux marron. Il aime regarder les films, et il aime aller au cinéma. Et bien sûr, il est très beau! 😉 Il est mon meilleur ami et je l’aime beaucoup, mais il aime son chat plus que moi. 🐱 Il habite à Las Vegas, mais il me rend souvent visite.
My french homework. 🇫🇷
Dana Carvey did not learn the lyrics to “Bohemian Rhapsody” prior to filming the scene where everyone is singing along to it, and was reportedly displeased with the take of that scene used in the film because he was obviously not singing, just moving his mouth in vague relation to the lyrics.
Wayne’s World (1992)
but that’s what makes it so funny