Cat Lover | People Hater @acidsoulalice - Tumblr Blog

no other person on this planet was made for you, they were made for themselves. love is all about choices. no one is going to be perfect for you, and i think we need to stop raising everyone on the belief that someone out there, just one other person in the whole world, was “made for you” because it isn’t true. no one is made for you, besides you. other people belong to themselves. if you want to make it work with someone, it’s about hard work, understanding, compassion, communication, and choice

heartbreakhur

-infuckti0n

meolog

sickfake

yeah i’m beautiful but where is my mental stability???

haleyincarnate

1. Make it Halloween night. Turn yourself inside out with loneliness, and plan to go home to an empty bed.

2. Match with a boy on Tinder. The one who calls himself an “optimistic existentialist”. One who peels back the rind of your clementine mind and asks you out to a bar when you’re off work. You will accept.

3. Confession: boy is only here for the night. Your heart will wince, but will quickly regain composure. You will not be afraid to bleed fascination tonight.

4. Together you will joke about knocking the thousand-dollar paintings on the wall from their hooks and having to pay for more than just alcohol. He will ask you what some of your favorite places in Virginia are, and you will trip over your own tongue trying to find a way to describe how this bar, in this moment, with him, is the most content you’ve ever felt in your home state.

5. Bond over smoking American Spirits outside of the bar. Discover he has two younger siblings. Two of his fingers were cut off and stitched back into place when he was three. In the US, his favorite place he’s visited is California. He rock climbs. He’s an Aries. His full name sounds like classical song you’d play on repeat. He’s got a smile that could crumble mountains, and then rebuild them. Eyes like a hurricane you’d be happy to stand in the eye of.

6. Inside at the table again, he will take your hand in his and slip the hair tie from your wrist, saying he’s keeping it. You will grin idiotically and respond with, “good, remember me”.

7. At this point, he will kiss you, and it will feel like renewal. It will feel like the world stopping and spinning too fast all at once, and you will love the thrill of it. You will admire the dizzying way he makes your heart drunkenly stumble around inside your chest. You will be hungover in the morning but at this point, nothing will matter more than his lips.

8. Drink two rounds and split the last between one another.

9. He will lean in close, apologize for being so forward, and then invite you back to his hotel for the night. You will say yes, with barely any hesitation.

10. You will follow this boy on the interstate like a predator chasing prey, but in all actuality, you are the one who is going to get hurt. You always are.

11. When you get to the hotel room, the bed becomes an altar. You sacrifice yourself to him, and he, you. You wonder if the closeness will last even after he boards his flight tomorrow. For now, you are pleading to a god you don’t believe in to let it stay.

12. Boy went to catholic school but there’s nothing holy about him. He whispers “goodnight” in the hollow of your ear and it sounds like a prayer. You will find yourself mouthing “amen” when you eventually fall asleep.

13. When you wake up curled around his body before the sun has risen, you are locked in place; a statue, holding tightly to the last bit of time you have left with him. If the hotel room didn’t feel cold earlier, it does now.

14. You lie there for a time that seems too short. You start to crack under the weight of knowing you might not see him again.

15. He walks you out to your car shirtless in the chilly November morning and you memorize the curves of his shoulders, his chest, his hips. The few freckles that pepper his skin. The way his forehead felt against your soft kiss when you held him to your chest the night prior. You pull him close, rather forcefully; you kiss him again, and again, and again. And then, you watch him walk away into a void of uncertainty.

THE DOCUMENTATION OF HOW TO FALL FOR A BOY YOU SHOULDN’T IN FIFTEEN STEPS // Haley Hendrick

mishabeeofficial-deactivated201

Punkhouse, you cracked portrait, nicked floors and dirty dishes, your chipped paint and broken neighborhood covenant, I am your embarrassed child sometimes too afraid to bring dates home to. The mornings I spend cleaning up cat puke, or the times I can’t scrub out the mildew, when there’s a mess of damp molded hair and tissues at the bottom of the garbage can, how our things just seem to disappear, I don’t know who would choose this kind of black hole as their home. Some days I look at the faded blacks, the vibrant greens, the weathered earthtones I’ve gathered in my life against swatches of pastels I was told that my life should be. Nobody really knows how they end up where they do. I’m here because I just fell into the arms of life, stuffed into her dirt and sweat, and suddenly noticed how she smells like earth before a thunderstorm. Punkhouse, you beautiful vibrant insect. If people I go on dates with can’t deal with dirt, then they probably won’t do well with my hand-stitched life. I don’t want the kind of life that sits on a pastel shelf, too afraid to get a little bruised or dirtied now and then; a butterfly trapped under a pint glass because it looks nice. For every morning that the dirt won’t go away, there’s a violin to be found in the crawlspace, always an embrace in the hallway, kind words through the thin walls. For every mess there is to clean up, there’s usually someone there to help, and nights where kitchens turn into packed dance floors, with bass so loud it sends salt shakers tumbling off the shelves. It’s no use trapping what’s beautiful only to look at it through glass. It’s worth it to let our lives fly. but it is better to stretch our wings, even if we are trapped underneath this glass case. A butterfly knows that there’s more beauty in flight, than in the patterns adorned upon its wings.

Brandon Speck, “The Poem I Would Have Wrote for Bryan May’s Zine and All My Friends With Butterfly Tattoos”

(you can order the zine I’m talking about, Kids of the Black Hole: Perspectives on the North American Punk House from Black Mold Tapes here)

By far, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read. It brought me to tears…

(via acidsoulalice)

wordsnquotes

You are under no obligation to write comfortable stories.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo (via wordsnquotes)

attackonmomo

the sun shines for her

grett

xxerlflynn

Queen Hatshepsut of Ancient Egypt. She has a lovely smile for someone who’s been dead for thousands of years.

jillyaintfromphilly

she wasn’t a queen. she was a pharaoh and wanted to be referred to as such. she even had her statues modeled after the male pharaoh’s statues to state her dominance and authority. she was actually one of the most successful pharaohs in all of ancient egyptian history and she reigned longer than any other woman in power in egypt.

cumleak-deactivated20210627

damn no wonder she died and smiled for a trillion years afterwards

inspect-hergadget

The fact that we know about her is marvelous.

the next Pharaoh after her Tuthmosis III tried to erase Hatshepsut out of history ,chiseled her name off her monuments ,covered the text on her obelisks with stone,knocked down and defaced her statues .

she was even left off the list of pharaohs ..talk about some patriarchy bullshit

her name was lost for a couple of millennia, her body was found in a unmarked grave in early twentieth century

sad part is in Egyptian belief is if your are forgotten in the living world you don’t exist in the afterlife,so he was trying to kill her even in death

trustno---1

My best friend throwing down some herstory. A+ commentary

mothensidhe-deactivated20151028

She wore a fake beard, you guys. She was the fucking boss.

ruthlessdilettante

If we remember her now does that save her from an awful afterlife?

awenyddogamulosx-blog

I’m just picturing the Kemetic afterlife. All the Pharaohs are hanging out in some kind of swanky club, drinking and congratulating each other on being bros.

The doors slam open and Hatshepsut strides in, glorious, robes swirling, rocking the fake beard and the insane amounts of wealth and power. “Miss me, bitches?”

airdramon

Then she punches Tuthmosis III straight in the dick.

inscrutablereynard

King Hatshepsut’s ka is justified and fed by this post.

Not only did she reign for a long time, she expanded trade and wealth in Kemet to areas and volumes unprecedented in history, AND she did it without conquest or war. She had a fleet of fucking ships built just to go to Punt for trade, no other apparent reason. Before these ships were discovered, Egyptologists didn’t think the ancients of Egypt knew how to sail on the sea, just the Nile. Hatshepsut knew, or at least knew who to employ to get that shit done. And got shit done she did.

Straight in the dick is probably right. xD

blackwithstarlight

DUA NISUT! Damn right She wore the beard, that’s what a King does.

dead-blog-go-to-artgoddex-deact

She also had herself referred to using male pronouns quite often and flat-out had almost all depictions of her shown as a man. So I just feel it’s important that we all keep in mind that she very well could have been a trans man or genderfluid.