But your best friend is still your best friend. Even from half a world away. Distance can’t sever that connection. Best friends are the kind of people who can survive anything. And when best friends see each other again, after being separated by half a world and more miles than you think you can bear, you pick up right where you left off. After all, that’s what best friends do.
I do not know the individual involved in this, but, as an EMT, I feel compelled to post things like this. Wear a damn helmet, guys. I know you may think you look awesome and all the ladies will love how reckless you are, but you’re honestly just demonstrating just how little you value your own life. I know this horse has been absolutely beaten to death over the years, and I’m sure that my words won’t change some of your minds, but just look at the damage sustained by that helmet. Now imagine if your face was put through the same situation. While the helmet merely had part of it ground away by the sheer friction involved, your skull would be pudding. End of story.
TLDR Version: Wear a freaking helmet.
Wear. A. Fucking. Helmet. There’s a reason people in healthcare call them ‘donorcycles’.
Some people are good at being in love. Some people are good at love. Two very different things, I think. Being in love is the romantic part—sex all the time, midday naps in the sheets, the jokes, the laughs, the fun, long conversations with no pauses, overwhelming separation anxiety …Just the best sides of both people, you know? But love begins when the excitement of being in love starts to fade: the stress of life sets in, the butterflies disappear, the sex becomes a chore, the tears, the sadness, the arguments, the cattiness …The worst parts of both people. But if you still want that person by your side through all of those things… that’s when you know—that’s when you know you’re good at love.
You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.
Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran (via psych-facts)