[a-laa-mode]

Another hormonal teenage boy is lurking in the corner, trying to find an insecurity of mine to feast on so he can get in my pants. He tells me that he’s one of the miraculous men in this world who is attracted to chubby women. I get down on my knees and thank God above that an acne-ridden teenage boy has the capacity to love a plus sized girl like me. Why the fuck should I be thankful for shit like that? My body isn’t a fucking fetish. My muffin top and jiggly thighs and stretch marks don’t need your damn validation. And when I tell you that I love my body, it should not be a shock to you. Self-love is a difficult journey but I don’t deserve it any less because I don’t fit conventional standards of beauty. I’m the only human soul that’s ever gonna live in this body, and I’m stuck in it for the rest of my life, why should I not absolutely fucking adore it? I’m comfortable with my weight. If you aren’t, you can frankly go straight to hell.  And one more thing to you ignorant men who think you deserve a fucking cookie for having the “courage” to love a large person- I should not be loved in spite of my weight, and I should not be loved because of it. I deserve love because of the person that I am. I should be loved because of my kind heart and partly broken smile and the utter radiance that pours out from my soul and for the ways my eyes light up when I talk about the things in this world that make my happiest, not because the extra meat on my bones fulfills your fucking fantasies.

my “curvy” body isn’t yours to objectify.  (via a-laa-mode)

[coldbeachbaby]

I spent eighteen years begging my dad to love me.“

colddecembersnow (click for more quotes)

[bumbleblossoms]

it’s a warm afternoon and i have been happy on the first day of first grade we told everyone our favorite ice cream flavor and i took too long to pick just one he comes home and sometimes i can just see it in the bags under his eyes all the tension piled up high like my building blocks he wasn’t happy today like me but mommy greets him at the door with a kiss telling him the food is ready and i think it helps a little just a little then we all sit down because he likes dinner together and bayla starts interrupting about her first day of pre-k i want her to be quiet why can’t she stop if she would just stop- too late so i just flinch as he explodes screaming with that big voice too loud too loud for my first day of first grade mommy always said i was just like him i liked to write like her and draw like her but i was determined like him and fiery like him i liked it sometimes when she said i was like him but then he would scream so loud my little body would turn to stone and i would remember why i never wanted her to tell me it again now i’m big i live far away from them and i’m not around when he explodes but i will come home from a long day of work and my partner puts the dishes back without cleaning them right and says something snippy by accident and keeps interrupting and just won’t stop if he would just stop- too late he looks at me with round eyes and i beg the universe to let me take back my scream but i can’t so i beg instead on warm afternoons please God, don’t let me become him don’t let me become him don’t let me become him

Miriam K, but i’m afraid i already have (via bumbleblossoms)

[slam-fan-blog]

I look in the mirror and wonder what parts of you, make me. I wonder if I have your eyes or your smile or your tendencies for self destruction.

Dear dad by slam-fan (via slam-fan)

[forreal-tho-deactivated20230613]

[deactivatedacclol-deactivated20]

This is the money grunkle, reblog in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!

[just-call-me-ella]

A post about romantic relationships

so I’ve been in a relationship for 5 years now. And I see a lot of posts about how people think relationships mean having butterflies forever, your heart beating faster when they walk into a room, about cuddling together every night, legs intertwined, that you’d be so happy to live together you’d sleep on a double bed with each other every night.

And its not really like that, at least not to me.

You stop getting the butterflies when you live together. Your heart no longer speeds up when you see them, but instead, everything calms down. When youre in the room with them, you feel calm, and secure. When you cuddle them you feel your heart beat slow, and the sound of their breathing carry you towards comfort. It doesnt feel like a roller coaster anymore, it feels like home.

You don’t sleep curled up with each other every night, legs twisted between theirs so tight its hard to tell where yours begin and theirs end.

Instead, you sleep comfortably, side by side, sometimes facing different directions. But every night, you find yourself scooting backwards on the bed so you bump into them. You snuggle against their arm, or stroke their hair as they fall asleep. There are nights when my boyfriend, in his sleep, reaches around me and pulls me to him, like a child with his teddybear, like I am his comfort.

 In the wee hours of the morning before the dawn breaks, when the world is blue and you see through cracked eyes, you curl into their chest and inhale their scent before drifting back to sleep. 

Kisses aren’t always romantic and firey anymore. But there are so much more of them now. There are cold kisses when you’re eating ice cream in the summer, and sticky kisses over breakfast pancakes. There’s “im leaving now” kisses, and “one more kiss before you go” kisses. There’s sleepy morning kisses before work, when you don’t remember the alarm going off but instead the press of their lips against yours is what brings you into the day.

There’s kisses before sleep, and, you are so sweet with the things you do kisses. There’s kisses because you treat animals so tenderly, and I’m so glad i’m with you and not someone else kisses. There’s quick kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, when its loud and you gravitate together, when instead of having your own personal space and their own personal space, its both of yours together, and you step into their chest to take up less area together. 

You don’t always text each other with confessions of love and care like you used to, because that’s a given now, and you’ve moved on to quirky inside jokes about the life you’ve built together. You share looks of exasperation and amusement in public, your own little world against the outside one. 

Relationships aren’t always a fairy tale. They’re not always fireworks and sparks, at least, after the start.

But they are a quiet rhythm and hum of love and care. It’s not a fire in your soul, but one in your hearth, keeping you warm and comfortable, comforting you as you drowsily drift into sleep.

And I love that.

[sheathegay]

Omfg … My heart.

[words-will-never-abandon-me]

😍 never not reblogging this!

[laruraa-deactivated20200916]

Fuck

[dictionaryofobscuresorrows]

pâro

n. the feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the world will only end up crossing some invisible taboo—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, colder, colder, colder.

[5000letters]

in this story we smoke constantly on the drizzling doorstep of your back garden and the sky is always grey and a little bit angry. you crowd me against the door and we pass the smoke between each other’s open mouths. i hold your throat in my left hand and reintroduce our tongues. i giggle and you say “what?” “i hope that we’re in love like this forever.” “we will be.” and we are. 

[0h-skinnylove]

[poeticallyemm]

you told me that the screams would stop and the tears would go away, but there are bloodstains on the tiles and the sky is always grey. you told me you’d be there if ever i began to fall, but those smiles and happy memories aren’t with me anymore.

e.m.b (via poeticallyordinary)

[poeticallyemm]

I watched, astonished, as he spat out lies like they were roses, the room falling silent as I realised what was happening. My facade crumbled; oceans poured from my eyes. “I just want him gone” I cried, choking on tears he’d left. Their eyes screamed "liar" and his words were enough- for who’d believe the child who refused to grow up.

e.m.b (via poeticallyordinary)

[poeticallyemm]

This nightmare is getting worse and I feel like I’m trapped inside this never-ending feeling of sadness and remorse. I am told that I should no longer play the victim, but all I can see when I close my eyes is you. You used to help me run away from all the monsters under my bed, but now it seems as if you’re throwing empty words into my mouth and hiding from my imaginary blows. I can see the monsters approaching now and I cannot help but notice they look an awful lot like you.

e.m.b (via poeticallyordinary)

[extrasad]

Ok

[ssweet-dispositionn]

This is BEAUTIFUL

[sickfake]

WHAT THE FUCK

[lillostsoul]

javier1031

[teamcaptains-deactivated2019122]

KNIVES & OTHER SHARP THINGS I’VE SWALLOWED

poem-title prompt by Maddie @mythaelogy​ :^)

[teamcaptains-deactivated2019122]

Four poems or maybe one:

i. I am Danaë, a divine golden symphony between my legs. I am Helen on the ramparts forlorn. Here, I’m cutting my hair in the hotel bathroom, here, I’m crashing my planet into your planet, let’s see which one drowns the other, generations of princes wiped out. 

I am Medusa  the instant her head goes missing.

ii. My mother says I am an angel found only in nightmares. She says she doused me in gasoline when I was two and held a match to me but I didn’t burn. At the doorway my father stood with his newspaper, his cup of black coffee, and said, “Like mother, like daughter.”

iii. I’m not a girl - then what are you? - many things - all right, like what? - a yellow brush a seashell held to a child’s ear a terrible crime in the tropics victim interviews tiny atoms splitting music playing at a quinceañera wolves fighting over elk meat duffel bags full of cash the moment a son grows taller than his father the complete works of Jorge Luis Borges the Iberian Peninsula - Jesus, okay, sorry I asked, are you an entire world at war? - yes, that too

iv. Three girls tangled on a white bed. What is this? someone whispers. What are we? An electric silence. Someone answers, Cerberus.

[guacs-deactivated20170408]

Holding On To You // Twenty One Pilots

[nizariat]

I’ll tell you a secret : I hate everyone who makes you happier than I do. سأخبرك سرا : أكره كل من يسعدك أكثر مني

(via 7-weeks)