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Cosimo Galluzzi

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@kaylyn16
http://iglovequotes.net/
Quebrada de Llanganuco, Cordillera Blanca, Perú // Patagonia, Argentina
when someone thinks you’re cool
When i was a kid my mom and i had a code word to let her know when i needed her to say no. For instance if a kid at school asked me to come over and stay the night but i really didnt want to, id call my mama and ask her, and then end it with “please, Mom?” I never call my mama Mom, just Mama or Moomoo, so she would know immediately to say that I was grounded or had too much homework or some other bullshit. We also had a system the other way around, so if i called her to see how her date was going and she needed an out, she would call me babydoll and id tell her i heard scary noises and was frightened and needed her to come home or something. Anyways, my point is that every family should hqve a system of codes to keep them safe. Go do that.
Dude. Family life on point.
I just want a cute girlfriend who will sit on my lap at parties and on my face in the bedroom.
Lord you’d be the perfect boyfriend
Well I’m a woman so probably not
Lord you'd be the perfect girlfriend 😘
my teacher: why did you copy the homework me:
i know we are all laughing but i found this inspiring lol
SLAAAAY TORONTO IM SO PROUD OF THIS
When I was five, and romance didn’t exist, I was a boy, and I was friends with a girl, and it didn’t matter, because why would it? We did everything together a normal couple of friends would do together, until we grew a little more and went on to different schools and didn’t see each other anymore.
So then I was eight. I was still a boy, and I was friends with a different girl now. She was confident and clever and bold, and we played games together during the lunch hour and went to each others houses after school.
“You fancy her,” the other children would say. I’d frown, say of course I didn’t, and why would I? We were friends, and that’s all. So we ignored the comments and carried on as we were, until her mother wouldn’t let me go to her birthday parties, because I’d be the only boy, and that would be “inappropriate”.
We didn’t stay in touch after school. I cried, when she didn’t respond to my letters - because I didn’t understand. Years of friendship: did it mean nothing to her? And then I’d remember her mother, and I’d realise what the problem was. I was a boy, and she was a girl. That was all there was to it.
So then I was twelve, I was friends with boys because I was a boy, and I only wanted someone to spend time with at lunch. But according to them, every girl I spoke to was a friend-with-benefits, and eventually I drifted away from them because I wasn’t interested in talking about sports and sex and risk-taking like they seemed to be. Instead, I talked to girls.
So then I was fifteen, and my friendship group was entirely female. I got called gay, a lad, a player, and all sorts of other things by almost everyone: boys and girls alike - but I ignored them. I liked being friends with girls, so what was the problem? Live and let live, I thought.
So one day I invited a friend over to the fair in town with me, and she came, and we enjoyed the day together without any hassle at all. Going back to school, however, changed that.
“Did you hear they fucked behind the public toilets,” people were saying. “They went on a date together.”
I said that wasn’t true - I didn’t have feelings for her that way.
“But you obviously fancy her,” they replied.
“No,” I told them, truthfully. “I don’t.”
Shortly afterwards, the girls I was friends with all organised a party, which I wasn’t invited to.
“It’s a sleepover,” they said. “Girl stuff.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay. Girl stuff.”
They used that expression a lot over the next few years. Trips to the cinema - going out together… And eventually I realised that I was an outsider. They didn’t tell me things anymore. I wasn’t let in on their secrets, and if I ever asked, I’d be told I wouldn’t understand - and it was inappropriate I should ask.
So I stopped asking, and my friends drifted further and further away. I never understood why I was an outsider, until I saw a picture of them at the prom I didn’t bother going to, because I knew I would have no one to go with. There were my friends in the pretty dresses I’d helped them choose, with a guy in the centre of the picture, in a smart suit and slicked back hair. That would have been me, if I’d gone. And it always will be.
And then I realised why I could never be as close with them as they are with each other. I’m a guy. And they are girls. It’s as simple as that. Guys never understood me being friends with girls, but that was fine, because the girls were okay with it. But on the day the girls stopped seeing me as just a person they could be friends with, everything changed.
And so here I am. I’m eighteen. I am not gay, actually: nor am I romantically interested in any of my friends. What I do know is, that we’re about to go on a group holiday together, and I’ve been told not to even come into the corridor outside their room whilst they’re getting changed, in case the door swings open and I “see something I shouldn’t” - as if I’d actually care, or be the kind of guy who watched for that sort of thing. And I’ve realised it doesn’t matter how nice I am, no girl is ever going to see me as an equal. I will always be a guy, to them. And they will always be a girl.
And guys and girls can never be “just friends”, right? There always has to be something more. Whether I want it or not, there always has to be that potential.
“Going on holiday with three ladies are you?” the ticket seller asked me. “Fair enough…”
And I said nothing, because I was sick of saying “not in that way”. I was tired of telling people that I wasn’t interested in the girls I was friends with. I was bored of trying to be seen as just a friend in their eyes, too. And if even they couldn’t see me as an equal, how could anyone else ever believe me, when I told them boys and girls could just be friends?
So don’t tell them my gender doesn’t isolate me. Because it does. And don’t complain to me about being in the friend zone. Because I’ve been fighting to get there all my life.
I’m reblogging this post again, because I can, because I still believe in it, and so that people can see why the haters who have been jabbing at me are wrong.
THIS IS NOT ATTACKING GIRLS. THIS IS ATTACKING THE GENDER BARRIER. IT CAN BE APPLIED BOTH WAYS. PLEASE DON’T MAKE RUDE ASSUMPTIONS. THANK YOU.
THIS THE REALEST FUCKING POST ON THIS WEBSITE IM FUCKING CRYING
Two Men and Half an Angel Index
http://collectionofdestiel.tumblr.com/post/121039273957/two-men-and-half-an-angel
http://collectionofdestiel.tumblr.com/post/121048939752/two-men-and-half-an-angel-2
http://collectionofdestiel.tumblr.com/post/121057358492/two-men-and-half-an-angel-3
More Than Sex
“He’s pretty hot. If I wasn’t a lesbian I’d be daydreaming about him.” Charlie snickered as she playfully shoved Cas’ shoulder.
“Shut up.” Cas gritted through his teeth as he ducked his head to hide from the redness bursting across his cheeks.
Mostly every night since Charlie and Cas had moved to Kansas for college they had started to frequent a certain bar that might or might not also be frequented by a man that Castiel couldn’t keep his eyes off of. In all reality he hated bars. He hated the feeling that he was being checked out because he wasn’t interested in anyone. Through most of his life there hadn’t been many people to ever catch his eye except this tall green-eyed man who was now taking a seat at the bar only an earshot away from where Cas sat with his best friend.
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Two Men and Half an Angel (2)
“Please, God, make it stop.” Dean mock-prayed as little Cas kept shifting on his lap. Every now and then a knee or a foot would dig into his skin and make him wince.
Cas let out a soft pathetic cough before finally settling with his head nestled on Dean’s shoulder. “Make it stop hurting, Dean.”
“I wish I could, buddy.” Dean rubbed his palm in comforting circles along Cas’ back. “You took your medicine so it shouldn’t be too much longer before it starts to work.” If it worked, Dean thought as he stared down at the baby angel now clinging to his shirt against the cold sweats. Of all the luck in the world Cas just had to get sick when he was a child.
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Not my edit
Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?
Old Dean and Immortal Cas - SmallWorld