my anaconda don’t want none unless ur gonna pay my college funds

    Tonight I listened to a voicemail you left me three months ago.
    In it, you told me to go fuck myself.
    I still remember that night.
    I still remember those words rolling off your tongue so gracefully.
    I remember wondering how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.

    Two months ago I called you at three A.M.
    I expected you to ignore it, or to send me to voicemail;
    those were two of the things you were best at.
    You answered and I felt my heart begin to race;
    you probably thought it was because I missed you,
    but truthfully it was because I didn’t expect you to answer,
    and because I really had to pee.
    I asked you how you were and you sat there quietly and confused.
    It was like you forgot that I existed and that I was once a part of your life.
    You told me “fine” and I smiled.
    That was the last conversation we had.
    I made sure to let go of you, and every negative word that was said, in a peaceful way.

    Fast forward two months, and I still wonder how you are.
    I still wonder how your dog is and if you’ve seen any good movies lately.
    If you ever heard me say this, you’d probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet.
    You’d probably think I think these things because I still love you, that I still want you.
    But that is not the case.
    You see, six months ago I was jumping through hoops to please you.
    To make sure that you were happy before myself.
    To make sure that I was the one causing your happiness.
    But it is not six months ago.
    It is now.
    And now I simply remember you as a person I gave my soul to.
    A person I told secrets to at 4am and fucked to feel a sense of closeness.
    A person I loved, yes.
    But it is not six months ago.
    It is now, and now I miss you.
    I miss the way you called randomly just to ask how my day was.
    I miss the way you seemed to care, even if you didn’t.
    I miss the friendship and the secrets and the stories.
    And maybe one day things will be different.
    Maybe you’ll call me on a Tuesday afternoon and ask how my day was.
    These are the things I think about before my eyes slowly close and I am finally rewarded with sleep.
    But for right now?
    Go fuck yourself.

    (via skinfilledthoughts)

    Oh my god

    (via leavemeincali)

    Shit man

    (via paruhhhdise)

    This is so bold omg (via sugarycoffee1213)

    I called Jay Pharoah right after the MTV awards. I said, ‘I appreciate your show, but let me tell you about my story. Let me tell you about what I went through to get to that position. I’m not making it a black or white thing right now, but I’m telling you if you see a black guy anywhere he had to work 12 times as hard, excuse me. So we ain’t gonna have no black comedians going up on stage spoofing the people that’s working hard to open doors, not only for black people, but any creatives, anybody that wants to add contribution to the world: beauty, truth, creativity, postitivity and just helping with love.
    Kanye West on comedian Jay Pharoah’s impersonation of him at the 2014 MTV Video Music Awards, Made In America Festival 8/30/14 (via kimkanyekimye)






    (Source: kmwilson)




    I fukin love 14th century art art because everyone looks so shady and suspicious of ppl around them its AMAZING




    or just like they know something u dont and oh my gdfuck i cant

    I believe the highest point is reached in Simone Martini’s Annunciation


    and the look of absolute hatred Mary and Gabriel exchange. 



    "mary i know ur only half a virgin"
    "fuck off gabriel"

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