foodchewer:

when i die just remember i don’t care

(via lovemercyandpatience)

“When I was 10 I watched my father breathe on a machine, and he turned to me, asking “who the fuck” I was, because he truly had no clue.
When I was 11 my best friend told me to never speak to him again, because being seen with me would look bad to his friends.
When I was 12 my sister told me she wished she was an only child, she was 4 years old.
When I was 13 my mother called me a “bitch” and put a hole through my door because I spilled orange juice on the kitchen tile.
When I was 14 my best friend told me he was in love with me, and put a gun to his head, pulling the trigger.
When I was 15 I dated a boy who told me that if I didn’t send him naked pictures of myself, he would punish me by sending pictures of my nude body to my mother, my father, and my whole school.
When I was 16 I dated a boy that put his hands around my throat and said that I “wouldn’t know love if it was wrapped around [my] neck.” That same boy shoved a needle full of heroin in my carotid artery and said, “I love you.”
When I was 17 I dated a boy that told me I neglected him because I called him when I wanted to kill myself. That same boy said he’d never leave me and left the next day.
So I’m sorry, that I don’t know how to show people love. I’m sorry that I get flaky and over emotional. I’m sorry that I could text you every day for a week, but never again for a month. And I’m sorry, that I don’t believe you when you say you love me. But it is not my fucking fault.”
— Something I needed to get off my chest (via exuperant)

(via kaleidoscope---heart)

we-r-survivors:

We Are Survivors

1. I met a boy that tasted like blueberries during the summer of 2011. He taught me how to kiss and where to put my hands, and I was young, and maybe a little stupid and a tiny bit too trusting, but I felt everything.

2. I met a boy that tasted like cigarettes during the summer of 2012. He taught me how to inhale twice- once for the smoke, and the other for the head rush, and I was young, and maybe a little desperate and a tiny bit too lonely, but I felt everything.

3. I met a boy that tasted like gin during the summer of 2013. He taught me how to paint with watercolour and the art of avoiding a hangover, and I was young, and maybe a little empty and a tiny bit too sad, but I felt everything.

4. I met a boy that tasted like blood during the summer of 2014. He taught me how to kiss and where to put my hands, and how to smoke & paint with watercolour & the art of avoiding a hangover, & I was suddenly old and a lot bit heartbroken, and I couldn’t feel anything at all.

— Long term relationship (via u-u-tf)

(via extrasad)

sexpansion:

ccccrybaby:

distrustingly:

j9cqueline:

boyirl:

The Aesthetic of Intimacy

this is disgusting if I saw this in an art gallery I would set the place on fire

are u 9 years old

how is this disgusting in any way lmao

that persons url is disgusting though

sexpansion:

ccccrybaby:

distrustingly:

j9cqueline:

boyirl:

The Aesthetic of Intimacy

this is disgusting if I saw this in an art gallery I would set the place on fire

are u 9 years old

how is this disgusting in any way lmao

that persons url is disgusting though

(via gore-pop)

browngirlblues:

her-name-is-wena:

browngirlblues:

I hate it when men make unsolicited comments about a woman’s body. Like “she’s got a nice shape but she needs to tighten up her stomach”

How about you tighten up your lips and never speak again you ignorant shit.

Wow maybe you need to accept constructive criticism jesus christ.

Men telling me (or any other woman) what I need to do for them to find me sexually attractive is not constructive criticism.

(via stargazerwannabe)

bookmad:

"fat girls shouldn’t—"

—have to deal with your narrow minded bullshit.

(via stargazerwannabe)