"I am both happy and sad at the same time, and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be."

-Stephen ChboskyThe Perks of Being a Wallflower (via dissapolnted)

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infinite-paradox:

Sea-kayaking with a minke whale - in pictures | Travel | theguardian.com
skwagger:

 






I’m never throwing a cigarette butt on the ground again. Holy shit.

YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THROWING YOUR CIGARETTES ON THE GROUND ANYWAYS

omfg poor baby

I’m so glad this post exists. I took ecology in high school and apparently a lot of animals are attracted to the smell of cigarettes and they eat them whenever they can find them. Sometimes they’ll even wander onto roads at night if they smell one and they’ll get hit by cars doing so. And they can’t digest them. The cigarettes just sit in their stomachs until they run out of space and then they starve because they always feel full. I don’t understand why people can’t just put their cigarettes out and then toss them in the trash bin or keep them in an ashtray in their cars until they get home. Is it really that hard?

This makes me so sad.

My dog tries to eat my dad’s cigarrette butts and ugh i just get mad

i’m angry 

GOF in Fifteen Minutes

railpass:

Virginia Hiking: Rain

It might seem severely disappointing to step off a train into the pouring rain, you know? A weekend full of being outside planned, an eighteen hour train ride, but here I am stepping off the train with a huge smile like an idiot. In that moment, rain means a lot of things. Rain means no snow. Rain means no ice. Rain means it’s literally 50˚ warmer here. Believe me, I’m cool with getting wet.

Like I said in my last post, I grew up in a cabin in Manassas, VA, but the area I grew up has changed radically from when I was in grade school to today, and is now just another part of D.C.’s suburban sprawl. This doesn’t sit too well with my country-livin’ folks, so they’ve moved progressively west to stay away from it all. I’ve got no problem with that, as they’re moving further into the hills and where all the state and national parks are!

So, the first morning back home, a trip was made out through George Washington National Forest. A lot of careful footing on wet rocks and scrawling across muddy hillsides, while not activities I’ve done in recent years, come second nature to me despite being twice as tall and much more swole, bro. Feet are still just as huge as they were when I was a kid though. That night, while my clothes were hung up to dry, I fell asleep curled up on the floor next to the wood stove with the dog by my side. The vague familiarity of other stoves, dogs, and floors is hard to ignore.