welcome thrillho

[ambiguities]

[gluten-free-pussy]

My Uber driver is blasting Dancing Queen and the whole car smells like weed

[susiethemoderator]

5 Stars

[statsdead-deactivated20200602]

Me, waking up my children in 2035: “Get woke, Bae and Thot, it’s time to vore breakfast!”

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

a collection of underrated tweets, part 4

(the series)

[tvcinemagifs]

Heathers (1988) dir. Michael Lehmann

[ashtraywritings]

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,

and, oh Lord, I went against all I believed in.

I’m hurting and I have forgotten how to live;

if I cannot forgive myself I can’t expect you to forgive.

“Thou shalt not kill” but when does life begin?

For me it began when I felt it within.

I loved him, my baby, since before he was conceived

but I hurt him despite all the things that I believed.

I did it for love and I did it for acceptance

but I know that I cannot ask for repentance

because I cannot justify or accept

that to myself and my child, I am forever in debt.

I pray to you, I’m hurting, and I know that I’ve done wrong.

But if we cannot both forgive me, I cannot live, I can’t move on.

Can you tell me, is he watching me? Are you watching me as well?

Are you hearing all the thoughts I think that I would never tell?

Does he love me, as his mother? Does he know that I love him?

Does he know I’d gladly spend my life repenting for these sins?

Does he know I never wanted this? Does he know of my regrets?

Does he know that despite the passing of time, I never will forget?

Can you both see that I have lost myself to the things that I have done?

And that I still feel like a mother even though I lost my son?

Forgive me, my son, for I have sinned,

although you and Our Father were all I believed in.

I pray he’s looking after you, better than I could.

I pray for all the bad I’ve done, you’ll see that I’ll do good.

I’m sorry that I lost you to my childish, crippling fear

and I hope, though I am hurting, you’re watching over here.

Forgive Me - Cydney Olwen

[ashtraywritings]

My body was a halfway house, a place of refuge for the sinners not fit to touch another but welcome within me. Not a destination, not a thing to be desired, just a half empty king-sized bed to rest their heads in when they’re tired. Unpretty and unclean, writing on the walls, dirty and chaotic and everybody’s fool. My body was a halfway house, a place of convenience, not beauty, a place of shelter but not warmth, a house but not a home. But not all criminals are criminal, not all users must be addicts. The heartbroken aren’t all heartbreakers, and you can teach an old dog new tricks. Walls can be painted and sheets can be changed. fingerprints on my skin will wash away in the rain. My body is a temple, a place of worship for your lips. Sanctuary for the repentant and those who do believe. Pure and pale and delicate, so beautifully designed. I hope that you find solace here; you gave me peace of mind. I hope I make you feel more love than you’ve ever known and I hope inside my temple you will finally be home. My body is a temple, a place of healing for the wounded, and beauty for the blinded, and pure love, reserved for you.

My Body Is A Temple - Cydney Olwen (via ashtraywritings)

[blossomfully]

[actionactioncut]

[foosili]

Me, crabwalking out of my room in search of drink at 2 am: THORSTy… THORSTY….

[7mangoes]

y'all think shaving your balls is hard but understand girls do full vertical splits on tile just to shave ONE pussy lip

[abduction]

[thexfiles]

i want to be soft again but i have so much anger in me 

[orphanbeige-deactivated20180110]

[womentoadmire]

ABUSIVE MEN COME in every personality type, arise from good childhoods and bad ones, are macho men or gentle, “liberated” men. No psychological test can distinguish an abusive man from a respectful one. Abusiveness is not a product of a man’s emotional injuries or of deficits in his skills. In reality, abuse springs from a man’s early cultural training, his key male role models, and his peer influences. In other words, abuse is a problem of values, not of psychology.

Lundy Bancroft, “Why does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men.” (via womentoadmire)

[hplyrikz]

I can relate to this

[melisica]