to teenagers they are known as annoying, mean, cruel, people who just ruins your life etc.. But think about it. They’ll be gone one day, and one day you’ll be crying for their help or just for them to be by your side. Love your parents, you don’t know when they will suddenly just disappear. Give them a really big hug and tell them you love them. Thank them for everything. How they raised you, took care of you since you were a little baby. Even if parents are annoying at times, they love you A LOT. If they didn’t care about you they wouldn’t …… give a damn about anything you do. Realize something, parents yell at you and do all these stuff for a reason. They want you to be a good/successful person later on, they want you to do good in your studies because one day, you’ll be all on your own. They want you to work hard because later on in life as you get older you’ll get what you want if you have a successful job. It all pays off later. So don’t treat your parents like crap all the time. Still show them your love. 

(Source: idrownideas)

citrum:

Strings // Young the Giant

there are good people out there. 

(Source: troubled)

(Source: 4spen)

paperlesswords:

These days I just can’t seem to get my thoughts down on paper. My mind is on constant over-drive, teetering back and forth between emotions. It’s been awhile since I last wrote something I can say I was proud of.

I learned something crucial about writing this year: happiness is the most difficult emotion to express. Seriously.

In the past, depression was always the catalyst of all my writing. In the midst of misery and anguish, somehow the words seemed to flow in streams of recherché, refined and defined emotions so unbearably painful that an ocean full of words tumbles onto paper like a wave of describability. Writing was a way to escape the turbulence, a way to sort out feelings and manipulate them in a way that satisfied me. And up to that point, writing had been satisfactory.

But now… I’m too happy for words. Don’t get me wrong, I have my sad days. Sometimes they come more often than not. But this time around, I don’t need to write to escape the sadness… I prefer escaping into him. He becomes the happy world I can only dream of writing about. Happiness becomes an all together incommunicable thing, expressed only by experience.

and i’m sick of crying.

(Source: hipst3r-s)

All those days i put up with you, i did what you want and all you do is make me feel like crap. Uh no i won’t put up with that any longer.