my favorite part of ginataang halo-halo.

that boy

I watched you pass through the window, I act like I didn’t see you. I wrote down on my journal the day & nights we shared. I miss those times where you’re a total stranger to me, those times I spend my usual sunday afternoon in this yellow tiny house, listening to itunes & how I watch you pass every afternoon without any feelings or care for you. Everything just happened so fast. I never thought we would come to this point. Now I can’t go back. I’m just stuck up wanting to be in your daily life. We can’t end a day without seeing each other. Its like minutes apart feels like home. I don’t know what normal sleep is for haha.

mornings with mitchy. 👯




There is a word for the thing the llama is doing. It is the best possible word for this phenomenon.  When an animal moves by moving all four feet like this at once it’s called… PRONKING.

I can’t make stuff like this up.

Okay. I’ve seen various antelope do this. I had NO idea llamas did, too!

What… a…. graceful creature

(Source: robertdafoto.com.br, via irrevocably-hypnotized)





This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

I just cried at this

i’m now in tears.

(via disgusted)

homemade bacon, egg & cheese toast ala sunog.

aftermath of mia

less selfies, more destination/outfits shots.

less makeup, more natural.

less post, more tweets.

less friends, less betrayal.

barely do overnights, or going out with friends.

no more old phone, new sim.

no dates, no cry.

no boys, no cry.

no exes, no looking back.

no more drinking, less smoking.

no more spendthrift.

no more food hunts, only homemade.

no more night life, be homey.

no more insecurities.

no leaking of my private life.

more places to see.

more photos to upload.

more books to read.

more bonding time with my family.

hair dyes please.

studies & family first.

cheers to a private, simple life.

"When I give, I give myself."

― Walt Whitman (via psych-quotes)

(via psych-quotes)

(Source: arrestus, via cvmplete)


(Source: damnafricawhathappened, via cvmplete)

"Sometimes my mouth
wants to say all those
pretty thoughts in an ugly way
& I stumble over compliments
like cracks in the sidewalk.
I’m only really good at emotions
when I place them into poetry
& I am the last leaf in autumn
still clinging to the tree, praying
that I won’t get blown away.
My feelings are messy, my love
explodes like fireworks in July
& sometimes starts fires. I always
give too much of the truth, turn
people inside out & call their flaws
beautiful. I forgive, accept,
rebuild, wonder why so many
are afraid to heal & I want to
protect you from memories of me,
how they haunt & ask why. I want to
protect you from myself, how I want
to know everything. Forgive me
if I ever dig too deep. Forgive me
for even thinking of you thumbing
my bottom lip like a string instrument,
I’ve just always loved making music like this."


(Source: extracrispy, via cvmplete)