DID HE JUST..
oh my god he’s making dick jokes excuse me but he has gone full martin
For me, acting is like a therapy. I can express myself fully when I am acting and have blood in my veins. Even when I’m not working, I’m always living in my own world, imagining characters.
I really don’t care what kind of blogs you have, This deserves a reblog
man the last image really got me..
The second to last really killed me.
A simple thing we see frequently on the Internet being put into the perspective of real life.
The last one put me to tears all I can think is my grandpa and how much I miss him
I don’t advocate war but the I have a lot of love for the victims of it. These put things into perspective.
My favorite way to blow off steam is to sing obnoxiously loud in the shower.
i’m thankful my childhood was filled with imagination and bruises from playing outside, instead of apps and how many damn likes you get on a picture
It doesn’t matter if you liked him, loved him, or even watched the show; you can’t deny the heartbreak written across that man’s face. He’s broken, bruised. He feels like his entire world has just shattered, just been ripped out from under his feet. He’s falling apart. He’s lost, because he lost her, his love. And he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now. He’s in disbelief, at an utter loss. He doesn’t want to believe that what just happened is real, is his truth now, and that he’s lost her. And he’s regretful. Because of time wasted, months come and gone, lost days spent with other people when all along he knew that she should have been with her; because now he’ll never get to be with her the way he truly wanted to. He wanted a life with her, a future. The marriage, the kids, the family, the freaking picket fences. And he’s never the kind of guy to want those things. But it would have been perfect. They could have given it another shot, a final one, and really made it last this time around. No more stubborness, no more sleeping around, no more pressure. He wanted that life, the one with her and their two or three kids. It could work. He would make it work. He would love her right this time, how he should have done before he ran out of time, before they ran out of time. Because life happened; time runs out and crap happens and hearts get wounded, to never be healed. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to move on from her, let her go, find himself. But maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he never does, never lets go. Because she doesn’t die today. He won’t, can’t, let her. And, if she does, then he knows that he’ll follow shortly after. Because he can’t live without her. Because her bittersweet last words were his own: they were meant to be, and always had been.