Today all I wanna do is sit in windowsills in cotton linen nighties and trace raindrop-trails with my finger. I want to do this and then I want to hear the door open, close, I want to hear your steps, stopping, you are behind me on the windowsill, you put your arm on my arm, your finger rests on my finger and we trace raindrop-trails while your wet forehead damps my nightie.

Source; here, here, here

They Call Us Misfits

Sources; screencaps i snapped from this movie.

Hungover?

Sources: yigal ozeri, displacedbones, chadwick tyler

Nick O'Teen

Sometimes I wish smoking was not terribly illegal and terribly known to be terribly bad for one's lungs. I just miss the times when we went clubbing and we were kids with fake id's and treasured cig packs in our coat pockets. We danced and we hooked up and we had tequila sunrise, orgasm and sexonthebeach. Then we danced again. BUT, when we needed a break from sweaty young boy hands and dancefloor-sandwiches we grabbed our cig packs and someone with a lighter and then we went to a corner of the club, or anywhere preferably with chairs and we sat down and let our cigs fuck and we could talk and breathe and feel anchored again. Feel hot, feel connected, feel smart. Ah the power of the smoking that indeed was bad for you, but still non-controversial and a teenage tool for connection and self confidence. As I went to psych class last week, the professor told us of classrooms back in the 70s and 80s where the professor would stand up there puffing on a camel or whatever, while students took notes concealed in clouds of smoke, balancing cigs and pencil (hah no laptops) between the same three fingers. Gawd how I sometimes wish things were still like that.

Source; annabel mehran, niotillfem, sally mann weheartit and my own screencaps