When the teacher asks you to write notes, and then stands right in front of the board:

image

(Source: best-of-text-posts)

kaitrokowski:

Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.

thewalkingmapal:

babybluestocking:

raikagay:

remember like 2 years ago when christmas stopped feeling like christmas for some reason

This post creeps me out because it is absolutely true 
WHAT HAPPENED TO CHRISTMAS

commercialisation