To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.”
What will your verse be?

(via occlumencyclass)

There’s A Lake Where You Can Swim With Jellyfish That Won’t Sting You

heytherekristie:

taurophobia:

alejandrostravel:

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There is a magical lake in the Rock Islands of Palau where you can swim with the jellyfish worry-free.

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The lake became a tourist attraction and people can go swimming and snorkeling with them.

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The jellyfish lost their stingers over the years because they don’t need them to fight off predators.

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Learn more about the land of friendly, magical jellyfish.

Looooooook
heytherekristie

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEED

(via octopusandrockets)

sharklock:

i won’t ever let anyone forget that chris hemsworth was in a show about tween girls riding horses and learning the true meaning of friendship

u can never leave the saddle club

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you.    (via jaguarz)

(via potatoandotherwise)