“I like to use a spray to measure the perfect cliff charge distance”
By thar_
This is the most vile thing I’ve seen in some time

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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Andulka
ojovivo

shark vs the universe
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything
Show & Tell
will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast
todays bird
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Peter Solarz

Love Begins

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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#extradirty

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@mxporshe
“I like to use a spray to measure the perfect cliff charge distance”
By thar_
This is the most vile thing I’ve seen in some time
He’s so gay he’s so sweet I love him
does anyone else constantly get the feeling that you’re running out of time?? and for no reason!! i could be lying in bed in the middle of summer vacation and my mind is like “hurry up!!! before it’s too late!!!” and i’m just like “hurry up and do what?? leave me alone wtf!!!”
My kink is husbands & wives who are still portrayed as very much in love with each other, because even after years of commitment and kids, they still talk to each other, go on fun random adventures and try new things. No resentment. No portrayal of marriage as a chore. Just actual love.
I just had a straight guy tell me “Gah I love lesbians” and before I could even say anything, he added, “because, ya know, they like the same thing I do and sometimes it’s nice to get advice from a girl instead of guys who think making love is just repeatedly putting your dick in something, ya know?” And I have never been more proud of the human race.
i was very mad and then i wasn’t
thoughts on the friendzone
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. he wasn’t the only one. there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was
in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time. one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.
in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.
when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.
in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention. i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes. there’s no room for nice guys like me.”
i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?
he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. being friendly. i thought we were friends. but then, how many times had i thought that before?
how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?
how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”
there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.
when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.
i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me. he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.
“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”
when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say
when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.
but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”
they were
“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”
so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:
put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. that he just wanted her for a relationship. a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.
maybe she friendzoned you. but you girlfriendzoned her, first.
I am clapping for this, you just can’t see it.
okay honestly wow I’m oh my god just
GIRLFRIENDZONED!! OH MY GOD YES
Joe Biden has a message for fraternity guys
If you don’t stop your brother from raping a girl, you are an accomplice
TELL ‘EM JOE 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
so my 14y/o daughter got into an argument with her high school principle yesterday for fighting. an older boy had come up to her and asked her out, but when she said no and tried to walk away he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her back. so she punched him and broke his nose. her principle then told her she should have “heard him out” and “it’s not like the boy actually hurt her” so her response was “inappropriate”. so my daughter then chewed out her male principle in the middle of the school corridor about rape culture and that if that was his attitude then he should probably quit teaching forever because all he was doing was teaching girls to be quiet victims and teaching boys that it was okay to touch girls against their will and then she pointed right in his face and said “men like YOU are why my mum taught me how to punch people properly”. she got a round of applause from 2 female teachers listening in and i have never been such a proud mama
this
there she goes again being over dramatic and by she i mean me
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)
how to kiss a boy
grab his waist
slip your hand in his pocket
steal his wallet
dont even kiss him
just run
icantevensleep:
The problem with being introverted is that there is no polite way to say “I love you, but I’m tired of being with you right now.”
I need writing because there is a chaos in my mind that can only be quelled by my hand on a pen. Without writing, the chaos damages my mortal soul.
danceinmyminds-a-m-s (via wnq-writers)
Writing is for both remembering and forgetting. It can harm and it can heal. It can fill place in our hearts that we thought were going to be empty forever, and that is what makes it special.
jadeprincess13 (via wnq-writers)