I love that “on your planet” is specified… I really just need to leave the country in general, see what else the world has to offer. I’d start with Ireland.
WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?
You know those little things you do or say that you feel like noone appreciates or notices? Keep doing it. Sometime’s the littlest count the most.
And I promise someone notices.
changes
i’m in desperate need of a change, and not a hair cut. i need to feel different
i need something
because this, this isn’t working for me anymore
its like i start a fight just to feel something new
:/
tiresome:(via secondstar05)
guh, i love this child.
i want to teach my child french just so she’ll talk like this.
I WANT TO LEANR FRENCH NOW
HOLY GOD THAT’S CUTE.
oh my gosh
i want one (:
why don’t you?
love yourself?
smile more?
talk to strangers?
mean what you say?
take chances?
sing out loud?
keep secrets?
listen instead of hear?
laugh until it hurts?
make someone’s day?
expect the best?
love.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
“
| — | Shakespeare |
