1. lazylunatic:

    novakian:

    questions of sex and gender explored on tumblr dot com

    This entire post is golden

    (via ohevilenne)

     

  2. kitroku:

    think you should probably lose the my there, that’s the cougar’s house now

    (Source: memewhore, via invisobitch)

     


  3. I have been homesick for you since we met.
    — The Avett Brothers (via here-soon-please)

    (via thegeekgotthegirl)

     


  4. Even the most
    sincere apology
    is wasted on lips
    that repeat the
    same mistakes.
     

  5. (via revorednu)

     

  6.  


  7. Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
    took the bus home,
    carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
    and cooked myself dinner.
    You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
    This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
    worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
    only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
    and slept like a rock.
    Flossed in the morning,
    locked my door,
    and remembered to buy eggs.
    My mother is proud of me.
    It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
    She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
    with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
    But she is proud.
    See, she remembers what came before this.
    The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
    how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
    She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
    These were the bad days.
    My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
    My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
    Depression, is a good lover.
    So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
    And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
    That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
    It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
    Today, I slept in until 10,
    cleaned every dish I own,
    fought with the bank,
    took care of paperwork.
    You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
    I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
    but I don’t speak for others anymore,
    and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
    And my mother is proud of me.
    I burned down a house of depression,
    I painted over murals of greyscale,
    and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
    But today, I want to live.
    I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
    or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
    I just cleaned my bathroom,
    did the laundry,
    called my brother.
    Told him, “it was a good day.”
    — 

    Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

    oh my goodness. I have no words.

    (via taytippett)

    This made me cry…

    (via ohevilenne)

    (Source: justsingyourlifeaway, via iwanttobyourknight)

     

  8. Southeast Asia

    (Source: spacecakeofawesome, via iwanttobyourknight)

     

  9. bayani-lt3:

    fightblr:

    building-an-unstoppable-fist:

    secretworld-observer:

    kellyfromthecity:

    The next person who makes a joke about my pole dancing and calls me a stripper, I’m going to show them this photo and say, “You may or may not take me seriously, but just know that I can probably crush your tiny little skull with my thigh muscles.”

    There’s nothing I don’t love about this.

    bruh

    HOLY SHIT!!!

    What if she has those really tensing orgasms and kills you when you eatin her out. That’s the way to go out.

    (via ogkevin415)

     

  10. tvd-iron-fey-nerdy:

    this is terrifying and beautiful at the same time

    (Source: chlomidomonada, via iwanttobyourknight)

     


  11. Wake up every morning and tell yourself that you’re a badass bitch from hell and that no one can fuck with you and then don’t let anybody fuck with you.
    — Kate Nash’s advice to college students (via p1ay)

    (Source: morganmarguerite, via mrciarlo)

     


  12. i write poetry because my heart bleeds ink and
    my hands shake fire, i’ve never written a poem
    about hurricanes or thunder, only your soul and
    how you called me wallflower, at first i thought
    the records that you played were meant to be
    heard through the tempo of your soul, but only
    when you left did i realize that pain tastes like
    strawberry milk at 5 AM when you’re sitting on
    sidewalk in black underwear and cigarette burns
    on your tongue like bee stings, and when i visit
    you in Hell, I hope you tell Satan I’ve come to be
    your bride, so i can write another poem about
    the way you chewed the words “God is a prison”
    — my sister eats acid  (via irynka)

    (via silentv0ices)

     

  13. inhalecar0lina:

    I can’t stop watching this. Its incredible how everybody else in the car ducks down after President Kennedy is shot, except Jackie. She puts her arm around him and doesn’t even think to lower herself. 

    (Source: real-hiphophead, via tdmindset)

     

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