Thank You For Calling Office Max.

hungry-writer-future psychologist-forensic psychology-chubby-trap queen on the weekends.

[wnq-writers]

Don’t you dare let him ruin your favorite song. Do not turn on the radio and when the first note comes out you change it. Scream the lyrics as loud as you can. Do not let him ruin your favorite panties. The navy blue ones with the white polka dots and the lacy edges. Don’t think of the times he’d run his hand up your thigh and tell you absolute sweet nothing just to make you fall for him. Wear those panties, you spent a little more money on them than you would have ever on a pair of panties. Do not let him ruin your favorite perfume. Don’t think of the times that his lips were in the crook of your neck taking deep breaths, inhaling every bit of you. Wear that perfume, overdo it. Do whatever the hell you want. But don’t throw that 75 dollar bottle of perfume away. Do not hate your passenger seat. Do not hate where he stopped you midsentence in the parking lot of a diner to give you a kiss. Do not hate that seat, someone else will sit there and hold your hand and sing along to the radio with you one day. Keep your head held high, baby girl. It takes time. Do not hate these things, they are what are YOURS. Not HIS.

stolenkisses-pretty-lies  (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

Nothing will ever seem normal after your lips meet theirs. In a world full of billions of people, when your lips lock together it will feel like you two are the only ones on the planet. And when my lips meet yours, I hope all the anticipation is worth it.

explainlove (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

let me tell you something: no one is going to look at you, broken and shattered and think - damn, you are beautiful. no one is going to come pick up your broken pieces off the floor and assemble them into a beautiful whole. hell, you won’t even look at yourself and think - I made broken look beautiful. you know why? because all those writers lied to you. yes, all those with their poems of scraped knuckles and blood dripping down chins, pomegranate songs and loves that ripped through you like hurricanes. liars. so you and i, we are going to make a plan. you are not going to romanticize days when your brain tells you to smash that mirror, you are not going to romanticize the lover who doesn’t understand you but still writes about you. here is what you are going to romanticize instead: you are going to romanticize the first day of spring, its gentle hands all over your body, lifting you up until you are as light as a feather. you are going to romanticize the tea and honey kind of love, no hurricanes, but sunshine that builds you up from within, that helps you make it through the worst days. you are going to romanticize gentle hands of a friend in yours, telling you that it is going to be okay. because it is. and don’t trust poets, we’re no good, we love pretending that our jagged edges tantamount to a beautiful disaster, but in reality - there ain’t nothing beautiful about shaky hands holding a cigarette and empty eyes staring at the cracks in the walls. you know what is beautiful, instead? the days when you can look at yourself in the mirror and smile, scars and all. music that makes your soul flow like a river, books that offer comfort, families flocking together like overgrown birds to keep you safe and warm, friends that give you strength when you can find none, lovers who make you laugh through tears. baby, from now on you are going to romanticize healing; honey dripping down your fingertips, August nights that stick to your skin, the day you find your purpose, long car rides and singing so loud that no one can shut you up now. bad news: no one is coming to save you. good news: you can save yourself.

Lana Rafaela (via wnq-writers)

💖I'm so desperately hopelessly in love with this I could die

[sleevesofgrass]

avoid the boy that calls you perfect before he gets to know you. the boy who bases you on the facts he’s scratched from the surface of your skin, instead of the dreams within your mind. avoid the boy that romanticises the idea of you instead of the real you. avoid the boy that says he loves you but his eyes linger on her face instead of yours.

avoid the boy that loves the idea of you, instead of actually loving you. /// maggie kan (via thesocietyofpoets)

[friendlybeatnik]

Oh shnizzaple

It’s 10:47pm I have an interview tomorrow, but right now I’m sitting up on my laptop that I just bought with my own money looking up my textbooks for the upcoming semester. Before I know it I’ll be sitting in my car driving myself to my first day of college. In this moment I am so proud and content with myself. My grandmother would be so proud of me.

[friendlybeatnik]

Welp.

I logged into my dead grandmother’s facebook today.

[friendlybeatnik]

Ugh

I feel so fucking alone and worthless right now I could rip my fucking skin off.

[stachlewhandpoke]

TUMBLR’S FIRST STICK AND POKE TATTOO EXCHANGE

The idea is simple, we love making stick and pokes, we make them on our bodies, on our friends or even family members. But why stop there? Why don’t make this exchange worldwide or tumblr-wide? Exchange s’n’p with tumblr pal. Create doodle and send it to the other part of the world. Then receive one from your pal and start poking it deep under your skin.

Make your doodle personal. Use your imagination, add something typical for your country/city, make it worth poking. Write your doodle’s story.

RULES

> Make it 3x3 cm (~1,2 inches). Draw a square around your doodle.

> Don’t make it offensive or vulgar. No one will poke it.

> Tell us colours you have. You can match colours to your doodle.

HOW TO TAKE PART

> Repost this post.

> Write to [email protected]. In title write “STICK AND POKE EXCHANGE YOUR TUMBLR NAME”

> In mail send us pic of your doodle, brief explanation of it’s meaning, your coutry/city, and colours you have. Also write if you allow us to send your email adress to your pal.

> Once you finish your stick and poke, post a pic of it with tag #stickandpokeexchange

[friendlybeatnik]

💖💖

[friendlybeatnik]

Today

I had a really bad panic attack and urges to the point where I wanted to die. Not going to lie, I'm scared shitless. I haven't had urges in a very long time.

[boletus-edulis]

Okay guys here’s my everyday makeup tutorial as per popular request

[friendlybeatnik]

It's 11:06 pm and tomorrow is the second to last day of my high school career.

Fuck. Me.

[friendlybeatnik]

[friendlybeatnik]

I'm really sad. Today.

[just-six]

Sometimes I forget I loved you.

six word story // trickledowneffect (via just-six)

[just-six]

Was it hard to love me?

six word story // appblrpie (via just-six)

Because I'd like to know. ❤

[just-six]

It’s hard not to love you.

six word story // vomitingwords (via just-six)

[wnq-writers]

Don’t tell me we are only friends. Friends don’t talk for hours and never get bored, friends don’t look to each other with fire like that. Friends never miss each other that frequent. Friends are great but I think we are something more.

shoroqsamy, Roadtrip (via wnq-writers)