intothepasttogether
intothepasttogether:

robopigeon:

Museum of Death
The Museum of Death is a self guided tour, lasting approximately 45 minutes to an hour, but those who can stomach it may stay as long as they’d like. At $15 a ticket (with free parking), you can enjoy an entire section dedicated to Charles Manson, the severed head of serial killer Henri Landru, original crime scene photos from the Black Dahlia murder and much much more. This place is a serious trip. There’s nothing else like it. Go.
Address: 6031 Hollywood Blvd, Hollywood, CA 

I wonder if my friend would like to go

intothepasttogether:

robopigeon:

Museum of Death

The Museum of Death is a self guided tour, lasting approximately 45 minutes to an hour, but those who can stomach it may stay as long as they’d like. At $15 a ticket (with free parking), you can enjoy an entire section dedicated to Charles Manson, the severed head of serial killer Henri Landru, original crime scene photos from the Black Dahlia murder and much much more. This place is a serious trip. There’s nothing else like it. Go.

Address: 6031 Hollywood Blvd, Hollywood, CA

I wonder if my friend would like to go

tbhalone
le-voyag3r:


mr-5k:


hopefor-thehopeless:
you’re probably going to dance with another girl who will taste like fresh picked strawberries and smell like flowers blossom in her hair
and you’re probably going to choke down 5 shots of straight vodka and get the thought of me out of your head and focus on the girl dancing with you who wants to be your apple pie but you can’t see the diamonds in her eyes because you’re staring at the ones hanging around her neck and you can’t feel her pull you in closer because she’s reaching farther behind your head of dark hair and tapping shoulders of random guys she’s never even met
and when this happens I hope you run to the dingy bathroom and splash your face with dirty water and vomit up the words you never said because while you’re out drowning your heart in things I shouldn’t care about I’m here looking at the moon whispering how much I fucking love you
and if you take her home I swear to God the moonlight will keep you awake no matter what time it is and you’ll watch it shine across your bedroom floor where we danced and laughed and I almost told you that you are my night sky
and I hope the light catches your attention more than the sight of her would and I hope when you wake up all you remember is that roses are my favourite scented flower and you can’t escape the light of the moon

Fuck.

😕

le-voyag3r:

mr-5k:

hopefor-thehopeless:

you’re probably going to dance with another girl who will taste like fresh picked strawberries and smell like flowers blossom in her hair

and you’re probably going to choke down 5 shots of straight vodka and get the thought of me out of your head and focus on the girl dancing with you who wants to be your apple pie but you can’t see the diamonds in her eyes because you’re staring at the ones hanging around her neck and you can’t feel her pull you in closer because she’s reaching farther behind your head of dark hair and tapping shoulders of random guys she’s never even met

and when this happens I hope you run to the dingy bathroom and splash your face with dirty water and vomit up the words you never said because while you’re out drowning your heart in things I shouldn’t care about I’m here looking at the moon whispering how much I fucking love you

and if you take her home I swear to God the moonlight will keep you awake no matter what time it is and you’ll watch it shine across your bedroom floor where we danced and laughed and I almost told you that you are my night sky

and I hope the light catches your attention more than the sight of her would and I hope when you wake up all you remember is that roses are my favourite scented flower and you can’t escape the light of the moon

Fuck.

😕

smilingbutnotok
I know it’s nothing that a plane ticket or car ride couldn’t fix, but god, you don’t understand it unless you’ve been in it, unless you’ve felt it. It’s that feeling that hits your chest when you two finally say goodnight after listening to each other’s voices for the past few hours, and you’ll wonder why every time you say goodnight it feels like a goodbye. It’s how even though you two just had a wonderful conversation your eyes start to fill up with tears because it’s a bittersweet feeling, because once they hang up you’re alone again. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. You’re alone. It’s how a good morning text stands in for a good morning kiss, and how a “what’re you doing?” replaces hand holding. It’s how you two can’t help but talk about how every moment will be spent when you’re finally together, how a kiss will be more than just a kiss, how a hug is something that will last hours instead of seconds, and how looking in each other’s eyes will be more like analyzing each little spec of dark brown in their iris. It’s how you know that once you get to touch their skin it will be like touching the moon, and each little freckle will be your star to wish on, only yours. It’s how you’ll discover new galaxies in their laugh, and how each little scar will be more than that, it will be a story you want to read, so you’ll trace your fingers across them like braille. You’ll think of all this, all day, every day, every moment, even when you two are lost in conversation, you’ll think of it. And that’s the thing that keeps you hanging on, that keeps you going. The promise that every time you see the moon, it’s one step closer to seeing them soon. So you’ll close your weary eyes, and dream of them in your arms. Once you awake there will be a message, “Good morning…” and shall your love be awakened again, to swim through oceans, travel over mountains.
i.c. // a love separated (via delicatepoetry)

I’m crying.

(via carmenscookies)