Who Is Hufnagle???

I honestly don't know how to go about describing myself without sounding like some sort of self importing douche. I should HOPE that I'm talented enough for others to appreciate my work. I'm an artist. I create. And in regards to me trying to use my talents to survive i guess i can't really say i create for the SOLE purpose of creating. Sometimes i'm driven to so do but I gotta eat, pay bills, and rent's due so until i'm afforded the luxury I'm chasing that almighty dollar. I also like to think that I'm here for some GREATER purpose tan to merely get by... I hope something I do somewhere in some way shape form or fashion makes someone else better. Even if I'm just the spark that lights the match that's put to the fuse that ignites the mind that sets the world ablaze then so be it.
I'm human. I make mistakes. People like me. People love me. some select few even hate me. I've hurt people. I've helped people heal. I've been hurt. I'm in need of healing... I'm a perfect imperfection. Life's a trip, so forgive me as I stumble. Battle scars, flaws and all I'm me and every day i hope to, through my mistakes and experiences, learn, grow, and be made better.I'm Hufnagle and there's no other way to put it... I like it just like that.



an underrated moment


(via nappybrowngirl)

“you smell like outside”

—   black mothers and grandmothers across the U.S. (via pettywhite)

(Source: shialabae, via nappybrowngirl)

Be yourself FOR yourself, the world will adjust. You are what you need most, this time and every time… JUMP INTO THE AIR AND STAY THERE.






Will: Carlton, carlton, I understand that you’re scared, man, but the world can be a scary place. Just got to learn to deal with it.

Carlton: Yeah, well, I found my way.

Will: That’s not you, man. that’s them.

^ i remember this episode i cried while watching this 

Me too. 😢

This episode had me in tears, man. Like, you really knew the characters were growing from this. I loved how it was comedy and still touched on issues that affected Black youth. We need more shows like this on television.

You gotta think, the whole concept of this show was Will growing up in a bad neighborhood where shit like this happened all the time, and Carlton grew up in a life of privilege and sheltered from this kind of life, and I think Will was crying because he came so close to seeing Carlton go down the wrong path and end up like some of his friends back in Philly.

This show is so important.


(Source: femburton, via sleepyguzmanthemariachi)


lol had to grab this formula for all my birds still tryna play love n basketball


lol had to grab this formula for all my birds still tryna play love n basketball


Bonita Applebum - Bryant|DIGITAL Photography

(via sleepyguzmanthemariachi)


www.ThaClouds.com Cc: @_abstractthought


Cc: @_abstractthought

Sometimes… I forget

Sometimes, I forget how to feel. I forget that smiles still come after, and sometimes while, tears have seen fit to flee their imprisonment behind the sadness in my eyes. I forget that I am young still. I forget that I’ve only been in this place little over a quarter of a century’s time. I forget my place in life. I forget that despite where “they” say I should be, I’m apparently right where I’m meant to be. I forget the importance of mistakes and the many lessons failure can teach me. I forget that fear is a natural occurrence, like the rain, and if used properly can cause motivation to bloom and grow in the same ways I allow it to feed my anxiety. I forget that friendship takes trust and transparency. I forget that I am worth the respect and devotion that I give, and that BOTH parties should benefit from the relationship. I wish I could forget those who savagely ripped, gnawed, and devoured the life and love I offed leaving none left for myself. I forget that in order to heal I need to be able to be more open to the kindness in others, everyones smile doesn’t hide daggers. I forget what makes me laugh, smile, or brings about a blush. I forget my online bank account password twice a week. I forget the way a first kiss feels. I forget how the to let another person get closer than ‘hello’. I forget what it’s like to be shown that I matter, except by myself. I forget that doing the little things for myself makes me less reliant on having others do them for me. I forget that that’s ok. I forget how it feels to touch someone without a second thought and they know exactly the meaning and intent. I forget what intimacy feels like. I forget what it is to have a connection with another person beyond myself that extends deeper than words could ever express and that person not be from my immediate family. I forget how to not fear being hurt when handling my heart. Because its been locked away after so much painful trial and error I think I forget where I put the key. I forget the sound of my grandmothers voice. I forget the love and strength she seemed to exude was all she needed to make it through this life. I forget what makes me special. I forget to eat well. I forget to make eye contact and speak with confidence when I do speak with unfamiliar people. I forget that other people’s opinions of me is none of my business. I forget that, unlike sticks and stones, words can not break bones. I forget who I thought I would be at this age when I was only 10. I forget what people say and do when they genuinely like you and want nothing from you in return other than friendship. I forget what it feels like when people concern themselves with your well being and happiness. I forgot to make a lot of my “firsts” happen. I remember how painfully awkward it was when I was in the business of trying that I made it my business to stop trying. I forget that I deserve more then what’s offered me. Sometimes I forget the way various strangers have touched my life leaving indelible impressions when they looked me in the eyes, and told me good and kind words, helps me find my strength and motivation… and without even knowing me helped me find myself. A stronger self. I forget that each day is a blessing. That each day turns out exactly as it should and is only what I make it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sometimes I forget to stand tall. I forget the weight of the world is not mine to bear alone. I forget that that somewhere out there there is someone wishing they had someone exactly like me in their life. I forget to let myself be seen. Sometimes, i forget that, as I sit crouched behind a locked bathroom door, tears streaming my face, eyes shut tight because i don’t want to see the hope that isn’t there, paused blade held steady and pressed against my left wrist… sometimes, i forget that I have a reason to live and that MY OWN life is beautiful and precious too.





(Source: lol-coaster, via raeenroes)



Smoke Signals (1998)

frybread power

yooooooo I gotta get that shirt… My granny and my aunt used to make that for us when I was little. The only native links I had really. I miss that.