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Lets Fly Away
Hi, I'm Ellie and I love cats.

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dbvictoria:

Dave Bautista takes the ALS ice bucket challenge up a notch.

(x)

(via double0strider)

perks-of-being-a-little-bitch:

Your Pokemon egg is about to hatch!

Everyone who REBLOGS this will get a Pokemon in their SUBMIT BOX

I PRMOISE I will send a Pokemon to EVERYONE who reblogs this

A randomizer will determine what Pokemon you get.

(via ss3646)

johnthewindyegbert:

aisurusenka:

celestialdeth:

Ask Siri if it plans to fill your room with deadly neurotoxin

image

wow…

(Source: miingyang, via bruhkomaeda)

tibets:

rhetthammersmith:

dog cloud over Manhattan 

we live in a simulation

im so sorry

(via starlacer)

wishcave:

*opens jacket* hey u wanna buy some oh jesus fuck it’s cold *closes jacket*

(Source: new-mauville, via gaaviinoofree)

goremet:

danyanimated:

So I was writing a small paper in Microsoft Word and the program suddenly crashed (I saved a couple minutes before, thank god) and I get this message in the corner of my screen two seconds afterward

image

what the fuck

(via gaaviinoofree)

mihrstears:

send this to your crush. Just.. just do it

(Source: weloveshortvideos.com, via gaaviinoofree)

cuddlemonstercas:

flyingbackwards:

cuddlemonstercas:

oneglitterorgy:

urbandictionaryfinds:

hidefjesus:

I laminated a paper towel

why does this have 31 thousand notes

You made it useless but also prevented it from the end it was predestined for.

But wait this is actually freaking me out though, it raises so many questions about the otherwise incomprehensible meaning of life as a collective whole versus personal sustenance and longevity

Imagine if one day you were given a choice: Become immortal and indestructible for eternity, unable to be harmed by anything ever again, and get to live forever.

However, in order to achieve that you must give up whatever your purpose in life is. Whatever it is that you were always meant to do, what you were supposed to contribute to the overall scheme and future of the life of the universe, your purpose… the whole reason you were even created, even born in the first place. You must give that up. You don’t know what that is. You’ll never know; But, regardless, you say yes.

Perhaps you assume you wouldn’t have made any sort of significant difference anyway. That butterfly effect theory or whatever they call it? Nah, you call bullshit. It doesn’t matter - you don’t matter, at least not to anything outside of your immediate connections - and it’ll all be fine, and you’ll just live forever with minimal (or maybe even no) consequences.

So, yay! You’re now immortal. You’ll never die or get hurt ever again. Wee!

But then, centuries and centuries later (not to mention that by this point you’ve gone through horrible heartbreak and misery and despair because every loved one you ever had, every friend you ever made, ever person you barely got to know, has passed away, died as you lived on long without them, helpless to do anything for them as you watched them perish, unable to ever go with them or ever see them again. But I digress), now, you learn you actually were important in the grand scheme of things. You were supposed to be a key factor in the world’s survival, long ago; but, because of the choice you made (immortality over individual purpose), you were never given the knowledge or awareness or resources or ability to save the world that you were always supposed to obtain, before you unknowingly made the wrongest choice to ever wrong.

Needless to say, you’ve fucked up big time.

The entire universe as we know it is destroyed soon after this horrifying revelation. It implodes, collapses in on itself, essentially forming a massive black hole or something. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, solar systems and planets, worlds and worlds of living people and things, and light-years of time and space and life, all sucked up into absolute, indefinite nothingness.

But you remain.

Just you. Floating amongst, spiraling around, rocketing through, suspended in… nothing. With a feeling of such unbelievable loneliness that your feeble brain can hardly perceive, can’t possibly hope to comprehend. Not only are you the only living thing left, you don’t even have one inanimate object to keep you company. You have literally. Nothing. And you are literally nowhere. I mean, technically, you are now the universe - if it would bring you petty comfort to think about it that way. You. Only you. With nothing, no one, nowhere. Forever. And ever. And ever.

All because you thought you didn’t matter. That you had no real, meaningful purpose. That you could never possibly make a difference.

But you did. And now look what you’ve gotten yourself into, you silly nugget. You’re gonna be pretty bored and lonely for that eternity, huh?

Or maybe it was out of selfishness. Maybe this wasn’t because you felt useless, but because you simply only cared about prolonging your own life and nothing else. Hm.

The moral here? Be selfless, and always know and remember that you matter.

Or else, one day, you might destroy the universe. And be left to suffer, and be tortured horribly and endlessly by the void of nothingness that has consumed you. With no way to escape. Ever.

Other moral because I got sidetracked from my initial point - all things considered, would you choose longevity over purpose? Immortality over meaning? 

OR, IDK, MAYBE SOME IDIOT JUST LAMINATED A STUPID PIECE OF PAPER TOWEL FOR NO GOOD REASON

AND MAYBE I SHOULDNT BE LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS TO THE MEANING OF OUR SHORT, FRAGILE LIVES IN

A LAMINATED

PAPER

T OW E L

IDK MAN,

I D K

Write. A. Book.

What if I did write a book

and the pages of that book

were made out of

laminated

paper towels

(Source: portal-mouth, via tinytinyrobot)

typette:

dynastylnoire:

aperkynobody:

lord-kitschener:

feelingswithbrandy:

rainbowthundercunt:

sweetassfoodstuffs:

handletheheat.com

THIS IS GLORIOUS.

YES

ok but who thought of vodka pie crust

effleague, you should learn from dis.

Tag

your

effin porn

science

(via tinytinyrobot)

snerkflerks:

sleeping-horizontally:

holdingmythoughtsinmyheart:

what a beautiful person

And to the introverted theatre kids, public speakers with social anxiety, and florists with allergies. 

Somewhere in the distance, Beethoven’s ghost is applauding.

(Source: existentialfuck, via tinytinyrobot)

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