— All These Things You Wish You’d Say (via idontneedglassestoseeyourbeautyk)
— Philip K. Dick (via surveyxcorps)
i’m going to go tune up my bike and forget about every bad feeling i know
I’m not like other girls!XD
I only have guy friends. I mean all girls do is start drama.
Oh my god, i hate sluts!
Other girls my age like to drink and party but i like to stay inside and read or watch netflix! I’m so weird.
All the girls in my school care about is makeup and shopping and all i care about is FOOD and VIDEO GAMES. lol sometimes i think i was born a guy.
This is everything.
when we are taught that bringing down other women in order to validate our self-worth … that is the female equivalent to “not all men”.
When it comes to objectification, this is a great example of why comparing male strip clubs to Hooters is a “false equivalent.”
i’m creating a kickstarter for cojones right now
HOLY SHIT THO
Short Term 12 (2013)
Grace: It’s impossible to worry about anything else when there’s blood coming out of you.
I’m still learning how to stop apologizing
for all that I am; I wear my skin like a blanket
that’s never been able to keep you warm enough
and Mom always used to say if you stay out in
the cold, you’re gonna get sick, I don’t want you
getting sick, please, don’t get sick of me.
I’m wearing out my I’m sorry’s like my
dignity’s on clearance but please hear me, they’ve
got me mislabeled. I’m not trying to sell anything, I’m
just trying to keep you around. And I know that the sound
of the same syllables over and over can become like your
favorite melody ruined by your alarm clock telling you to
wake up to nothing ever changing, but I’m trying,
and I’m afraid of what happens
when the music stops playing.
I hope my I love you’s never stop making
your heartbeat do pirouettes along your ribcage.
I hope my sadness doesn’t replace my name
on your Caller ID, I hope that you remember that
this isn’t me, that my genetics fell on a fault line and
my happiness fluctuates on the days of the week, but I
still love you with every tremor in every earthquake of my
universe. I love you when I go away; when I am nothing
but tired eyes and chapped lips and empty, and empty, when I
force you to cradle my missed calls against your cheek because
I’ve adopted an impediment in positive speech, I’m sorry. I’m
sorry that we had to drive back to the house on Tuesday when I
forgot to take my pills, and I’m sorry that I’m not up for going out
tomorrow, I’m sorry that my mind wanders sometimes when you
tell me about your day, I- I do want to hear about your day,
I am so sorry
and yeah, I’m still learning how
to stop apologizing, baby, but I still love you, so hard.
Mainly, I’m just –
mainly, I’m just sorry
for being selfish enough to ask you to stay.
— "Why Your Depressed Lover Keeps Saying Sorry" -Valentina Thompson (via theseoverusedwords)
- You have no idea what I’m going through right now.
- Then tell me. That’s how this works. You talk to me about it so that I can take your hand and fucking walk through this shit with you. That is what I signed up for, okay? But I cannot do that if you won’t let me in.
wow look at this terrible role model for young girls.
my respect for nicki knows no bounds.
thank you for the support today. i know you support me everyday, but thank you for today; i really needed today. dear girlfriend; i know you’ve only known me for a year or so, and you don’t know who i used to be and all the troubles that came along with being me, but i’m really happy you still want to stick around and love me.
i don’t get scared of the world often, i don’t give up when things get hard but i really wanted to pack it in today. i don’t like when my past catches up to me. i don’t like being reminded of my depression or the days that i used to skip school because i couldn’t get out of bed for a week. i don’t like remembering all the times i used to sneak out of the house when my parents were asleep. i don’t like how i used to stay up all night to fulfil some romantic notion of lost youth and broken dreams — i wasted so many years of my life doing that — i was a wreck in high school. i almost gave up back then, and i hated how my mother cried when she found out and i hated how that was at my school because my guidance counsellor had to call her in and i hated, hated, small rooms with adults in ties telling me that things would get better. i hated doing that to her.
and now i don’t do that to her, and i don’t do that to me, and i’m finally okay with who i am and what i can do. i’m not scared anymore; i’m not scared.
but i hate being reminded of that portion of my life, and how i couldn’t pull myself together enough to even think about the future — because i didn’t think that i would live long enough for a future. and now i have, and i have to deal with the burden of who i used to be — and i hate that i have to. i resent myself.
and that’s what i had to deal with today — my resentment — and i guess that’s what you were dealing with too, even though i didn’t say it. and i’m very appreciative of you sticking by me. i read this thing once, and it said:
when someone cries because you said something nice to them, they’re someone who you need to protect because they haven’t seen enough kindness in the world.
and i think about it a lot because i never really want to admit it to myself … but i cry when people are nice to me, and when you’re nice to me and i don’t want to. but i do and i don’t want to anymore. i don’t want to resent myself anymore.
it means too much to know you’ll stick around while i try and fix my problems; i really do want to fix them. i really do want to be the person that you think i am, or the person that you know me to be. thank you for telling me that you want to carry my baggage for me; on my weak days you keep me strong.