1. 22:01 19th Oct 2014

    Notes: 475707

    Reblogged from allfullofteenageangst

    (Source: ruinedchildhood)

     
  2. 22:00

    Notes: 338

    Reblogged from probalicious

     
  3. 22:00

    Notes: 20128

    Reblogged from erag0nshadeslayer

    1. We met in the waiting room of our therapist’s office. He told me that orchids symbolize death and stuck one behind my ear. I kissed him too hard and my mother asked me why the scent of liquor was hanging off all my clothes. 8 months later I left white oleanders on his grave. They’re poisonous. I think we were too.

    2. He drove too fast and I played music too loud and kissed him while he drove. We were our own accident waiting to happen. We almost drowned one night when we fell into a lake in the middle of winter. When we fell in love. He left me a note telling me that being with me was like being alone. I deleted his number but kept it written down in the back of my old social studies notebook from middle school. I have called him 8 times since then.

    3. God, I would’ve fucking died for him. In a few ways, I did.

    4. He fucked someone else because he hated the way my scars would split open and bleed all over my clothes. I took a lot of pictures of him. They’re still in my attic. I tried to burn them once but my hair caught fire instead.

    5. I never knew his middle name. He spoke in poetry and choked down cigarettes and never answered my calls. I held his hand too tightly. He would climb in my window and fall asleep next to me. I think he had nightmares most nights. My mother found out he was staying over and kicked him out. Everything stopped smelling like him. I hate it.

    6. We tried to run away but we were only 16 and we weren’t allowed to buy train tickets so we took a bus but I got sick halfway and threw up my parent’s worried voicemails. He took me to some shitty motel and let me sleep while he went out to buy drugs. We went home and never saw each other again.

    7. He would touch my best friend’s thigh under the table when we all went out. I pretended not to notice. He pretended to love me.

    8. We wrote each other love letters and he cut my hair to my shoulders. He tasted like coffee with two packets of sugar because that’s all he drank. He was still tired all the time. I wish I could’ve woken him up. My hair is down to my waist now. I can’t remember the sound of his voice.

    9. I’m not sure if I ever even loved him. I think I might’ve been so in love with him. He lived next door. Our mothers hated each other. When he was 6 he pulled the flowers out of the garden in our backyard. When we turned 17 he followed me home from school and kissed me. He would wipe away my tears when I cried. And then a new girl showed up at school and he started taking a different route home. He pulled all the flowers out of my fucking garden.

    — 9 boys my mother warned me not to kiss  (via extrasad)
     
  4. 21:59

    Notes: 162784

    Reblogged from erag0nshadeslayer

    onlylolgifs:

    baby arctic fox tries to eat a man alive

     
  5. 21:59

    Notes: 648548

    Reblogged from iamthewhitegirl

    diarrheaworldstarhiphop:

    therainbowgorilla:

    visambros:

    tiredestprincess:

    zamotdredhart:

    tiredestprincess:

    i just remembered people with penises can’t have multiple consecutive orgasms ohhjhhh my g OD HAHAHAHHKDFHAH

    Well people with vaginas have periods so I think y’all deserve all the orgasms you want

    that’s….really sweet… omfg

    This post is also inclusive of transgender people this is the most positive post be seen all week

    image

     
  6. 21:58

    Notes: 306600

    Reblogged from iamthewhitegirl

    image: Download

    meatbicyclevevo:

that’s what little girls are made of

    meatbicyclevevo:

    that’s what little girls are made of

     
  7. 21:57

    Notes: 507994

    Reblogged from allfullofteenageangst

    mightyhealthyquest:

    IT’S ALWAYS TEA TIME!

     
  8. 21:57

    Notes: 197590

    Reblogged from totallyfubar

    desirethepositive:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

caffeinatedredhead
you needed to read this I’m crying

    desirethepositive:

    fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

    saltheria:

    yeffyaboyuice:

    mythchief:

    So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

    I get naked.

    FULL naked.

    REAL naked.

    I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

    No cookies. Blatant nudity.

    That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

    And there it was.

    This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

    Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

    “Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

    Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

    As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

    This was, nearly, one of those.

    If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

    My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

    I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

    “WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

    And inquiries such as:

    “AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

    Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

    That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

    An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

    OMG ITS BACK

    This shit needs to be published.

    This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

    caffeinatedredhead
    you needed to read this I’m crying
     
  9. 21:57

    Notes: 212403

    Reblogged from erag0nshadeslayer

    fragile-fallen-angel:

    ya-boi-strider:

    Somebody needs to give that guy an award

    He just made that cop’s shitty day 10x better. He has to deal with grumpy, hateful protesters and then Jesus fucking shows up.

    (Source: thegailygrind)

     
  10. 21:56

    Notes: 64546

    Reblogged from talesfromterrafirma

     
  11. 21:56

    Notes: 321711

    Reblogged from imjustateenagerowerbaby

    image: Download

    (Source: inspiredbyadam)

     
  12. 21:55

    Notes: 164491

    Reblogged from iamthewhitegirl

    konoto:

    seananmcguire:

    castielsteenwolf:

    pr1nceshawn:

    The evolution of Halloween costumes for girls…

    this is really important

    This is why I get upset about the sexy costumes at Halloween.  Not because you don’t have the right to be sexy—you absolutely, absolutely do.  But because while you might be able to find costume #3 in a tween size in each of these rows, I can guarantee that in almost all cases, you will not find costume #2 in a teen or adult size.

    Babies/toddlers get to be cute.  Kids/tweens get to be fun and spooky and still have modesty, if they want it.  Teens who aren’t on the small end are already getting the sexy, even if they really just want fun, spooky, and a skirt that goes below mid-thigh.  And adults?  LOL nope it’s sexy or nothing.

    Everyone who is of an age to want sexy should be allowed to have sexy.  But “not sexy” should always be on the table as well, because sometimes you just want to be warm and cozy and filling a pillowcase with strangercandy.

    I love it when society would call girls sluts for dressing like that and at the same time they refuse to offer girls any other kind of halloween costumes.

     
  13. 21:54

    Notes: 25097

    Reblogged from iamthewhitegirl

    elegently:

    That moment when you want tell a joke but you laugh so much that you can’t tell.

     
  14. 07:12

    Notes: 61

    Reblogged from kolenegetsfit

    image: Download

     
  15. 07:12

    Notes: 66912

    Reblogged from boothblythe