So my mom and I have been working the same waitress job for 5-6 years now. She had been waitressing years before, but this is recently. Anyway, about… 15 minutes ago this guy she waited on left and told her to take care. Just that. Prior to this she had talked to him about Italy. Her people are from Florence, this and that, and she said she’s never been. She’s got 8 years of art education and she’s working a waitress job. It’s pretty… Sad and disappointing, I guess. Her and my father divorced 6 years ago and she hasn’t had a real job ever. Just been stuck in a small town she’s not from.
This man who we have never seen before tipped her 1000 dollars for a trip to Italy. Walked out, not another word.
Why does’t this have more notes
Some people are truly amazing.
Periods, you no longer impress me. I am bleeding from my nethers, WHATEVER. Try something new, uterus. You make chocolate pudding instead of blood, then we’ll talk.
This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen
yeah this is actually how it goes
Every couple months, this comic has a renaissance on tumblr and I think by this point, in the year since I’ve made it, I’ve learned about every period every tumblr user has ever had.
(Wake me up) Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up) Wake me up inside
(Save me) Call my name and save me from the dark
Stop trying to make google+ happen, Gretchen.
Tumblr: Here’s everything Donut has ever been in. Here’s a fifteen second gif of this actor eating a donut. This is what it means when donuts are eaten in this sign. Here’s how to kill somebody with a donut. Here’s how to bury a body with a donut. Here’s Supernatural.
Here’s Benedict Cumberbatch eating a donut. Here’s a map of per capita donut consumption. Here’s an inspirational quote about beauty written in helvetica on a donut. Here’s how donuts are tools of the patriarchy.
God I love tumblr.
is that john green
“There’s still time. You should sleep.”
Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.
“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers.
“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation.
“Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.”
After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.
Once again I find myself in the same old place
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