Positano, Italy
photo by attila2008
i was there! climbed staircases up and down the city for 3 hours, then swam in the sea :)
(via dopedominicano)
sooner or later, it all comes crashing down, when everyone’s around. *sigh*
reblog
Ugh i hateee when my parents start sentimentally telling stories of when i was younger, all the trouble-making things i used to do, all the Sharon, Lois and Bram concerts they took me to. It makes me so sad. My parents have such high hopes for me and they think i can really accomplish something and when they start telling these stories, i feel like a big ass disappointment. Like i went from this vivacious little Shirley Temple to a lazy worker who doesn’t try to her potential. It really breaks my heart. I want these people who love me so much to feel proud of me, and i promise myself they will some day. I have so much going for me. I know i can do it! I just need to get myself back on track, right? Right. Just get back on track.
Hot Sauce. My family. Acting. Spanish. The name Oliver. Tofu. Air Jordans. Green. Guinea pigs. My friends.Nail polish. Cheese. 90’s music. Dogs. Omar Epps. Cacti. Chocolate. Rohinton Mistry. Pharrell. Oscar Wilde. Autumn. The newspaper. Palm trees. Pocket watches. Christmas lights. Tea. Mini golf. Jeans. Being eighteen. Living in the city.