belbybilby

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Got a feeling this will be me in 10 years

So in love with my cute as fuck roommate.

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When someone is going through a storm, your silent presence is more powerful than a million, empty words.

Thema Davis (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

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these are the reason I have trust issues

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Ghosting:  The act of suddenly ceasing all communication with someone the subject is dating, but no longer wishes to date. This is done in hopes that the ghostee will just “get the hint” and leave the subject alone, as opposed to the subject simply telling them he/she is no longer interested.

No, I’m not proud of the fact that I am introducing an article by using a definition from Urban Dictionary.  But it seems appropriate in this case because I did not know what this meant until I recently experienced it…http://www.therefinedwoman.com/ghosting-so-thats-like-a-thing-now/

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#emetpostive

So for anyone out there with emeteophobia often the emet tag is triggering because people post about their bad days. Please use #emetpositve if you're posting something encouraging and uplifting so that people in the emet community can have a place to go when they need encouragement that life and recovery is worth it ! (:

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And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away. -Revelation 21:4

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As they often are.. But I find food dissolves that pretty quick

My pig is sick of my shit.

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My body and mind may fail, but you are my strength and my choice forever.

Psalms 73:26 (via littlethingsaboutgod)

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by laure prouvost (+)

[via]

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but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. (at // psalm 20:7)

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These photographs, by New York-based Bing Wright, feature reflections of sunsets in shattered mirrors.

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spiritual counselor

I spent some time with my spiritual counselor today. Spent time with him, and gave him lettuce and fresh water and the way he gives thanks for these is enough to make anyone calm down and smile. When I come home wanting nothing more than to gripe about petty irritations, he won’t let me. He talks over me, drowning out the sound of my grumbling with his small, soft, insistent voice, and I listen despite my aggravation. And I smile. Guinea pigs have a lot to say. My furry guru accomplishes more with his fresh bedding and hay than some other “masters” do with crystals and candles and chakra wheels. His world is mostly cage-confined, interrupted by cuddles and pellet-meals. And he is wise. Offering only unbiased love and untarnished affection from his somber little eyes. My tiny, loaf-shaped teacher is enlightened and, through his tutelage, so am I.

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“Heartbroken, suffering. You’re Anna Karenina.” “Shall I throw myself under the train?”

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