♀️logan♀️

♡ don’t die, kids ♡

[cryptic-curses]

Pony: *gets rejected by Cherry*

Pony:

Pony: SO WHY DO GOOD GIRLS LIKE BAD GUYS? IVE HAD THIS QUESTION FOR A REAL LONG TIME-

[love-from-the-other-side]

My friends asked me if I’m still emo… apparently I haven’t been wearing a lot of black. So starting rn I’m gonna be the biggest emo rat they’ve ever fucking seen. Make them regret the day they questioned my emo-ness

[cutiepiesub]

Being attracted to someone’s voice is a real thing

[temporary]

@ people without glasses/contacts, do yall never get tired of seeing perfectly? idk that must get rlly tiring, because i definitely do. i just take my glasses off and enjoy the blurriness

[lethalnihilism]

oh my god lmfao

edit: it got funnier actually

i’m laughing @ all of this

[anxietyproblem]

[bebx]

They can’t mark it as wrong 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

[okay]

DO YOU EVER JUST WANNA SCREAM SO LOUD WHEN YOU TRY TO THINK ABOUT YOUR FUTURE

[the-real-ted-cruz]

I will always support girls who figure out that they’re lesbians after thinking they were bisexual and girls who figure out that they’re bisexual after thinking they were lesbians. It can be really hard to determine whether what you are feeling is compulsory heterosexuality or genuine attraction, and we should always show a girl love and support when she tries to figure that out and when she does figure it out.

[i-am-a-fish]

[rpgmaker-deactivated20150501]

shout out. just in general. im just shouting

[happywhole-me]

Permission

For those of you in recovery who feel they need permission…Here it is.

You have permission to eat . You have permission to be happy. You have permission to be healthy. You have permission to be bigger. You have permission to love yourself no matter what. You have permission to be free.

( Now it’s time for you to give yourself permission because it has always been available to you all you have to do is believe)

[inkskinned]

he says he’s dying and i want to hold him to me, not out of some sort of sick fantasy where i save him but because he’s a part of me, because our scars match each other’s escape hatch dreams. he looks at me and smiles when he’s telling me he’s sad because he doesn’t know how not to make a joke out of everything because he lives in a chokehold and if you imagine the noose a necktie you might make it out alive.

what i’m saying is that recovery is less of an island and more like a bright spot in your imagination that isn’t a speeding train but rather a fluctuating plane so i know

i know that your fingers burn from holding the rope and that tomorrow feels like hands coming up around your throat

but believe. the dawn always brings us closer to the day we shed our fake friends and move out of this town and learn to love ourselves wildly. pretend like we’re ghosts if it means the punches go through us so long as the hole seals up we’re good. what i’m saying is live. if in the marketplace you feel your heart race because cereal reminded you that you’re broke and hopeless, it’s okay. break down on the side of the road or in your class or staring out your living room window. the good news is that someone out there is a mechanic and no you’re not an object but i promise you’ll meet someone who’s gone through what you did. i know because i am one of them.

what i’m saying is that recovery isn’t a destination, you’re not either out in the ocean or safe on land, it’s a choice to keep swimming even when you’re sure you’d rather be drowning. what i’m saying is that it’s not a linear equation, it doesn’t resolve itself quietly but rather spirals out, sometimes into infinity. the good news is that you get stronger the more you keep trying, the more you make choices between living and dying, the more you take steps not away from a bad past but towards knowing that bad past is behind you. it stays a part of you. and that’s okay. it’s good to remember the smell of the grave because one day you’ll be outside in the rain and you’ll realize that you only envied the dirt because it was sleeping, that some part of you really does enjoy breathing, that if you stay

it’s messy and it’s exciting and sometimes it hurts more than poets can say

but if you stay

one day you wake up and maybe it’s not great but it’s finally okay.

[kittyb4e]

[5-seconds-of-insanity-deactivat]

I doubt anyone really cares about this, but I’m saying it anyway.

Most of the 5sos fanbase seems to be in their 20s, or at least 18 plus. I just want to say that us young fans are out here. I can’t speak for everyone, but I think most of us are a little intimidated. There are so many fans who have been here since the beginning, who talk about the release of Heartbreak Girl and watching 5sos tour with 1D, and I think we’re a little afraid of saying that we’re still new compared to you all. But we’re still here.

I am 15 years old. I started listening to 5sos at the beginning of 2018, before the Youngblood era really kicked off—there still wasn’t a release date for Want You Back and we were getting little to no new content. I came into the fandom listening to songs from Sounds Good Feels Good and earlier, and it absolutely astounded me that there were people out there writing songs that were so honest. Think Jet Black Heart, Broken Home, Invisible. I can’t describe the effect that had on me as a person who struggles with depression and anxiety. By the time Youngblood was finally released, I had grown to love 5sos and the message they had.

I listened to the self-titled album and smiled knowing that 5sos were around my age when they wrote some of those songs. I listened to Sounds Good Feels Good and connected with the music so deeply that sometimes it felt like 5sos knew me personally. Now I listen to Youngblood and can’t relate just yet, but I still rock out to the songs knowing how much 5sos have grown as people. And knowing how much I will grow.

I realize that sounds a little strange, but let me explain myself. Me and most other fans my age can’t relate to the songs on Youngblood. Personally, I connect with Sounds Good Feels Good more. I relate to Invisible much more than I wish I did. But I see the boys in interviews and I hear the lyrics in their music and see how much they’ve grown, how they’re still evolving and changing. I look at 5sos now and think, I will be okay.

I see Luke smiling and laughing during interviews, even though I know the last few years have been rough for him, and I know that one day I’ll smile too.

I see Michael, obviously in love and now engaged, and I think how I’ll be able to form strong relationships, romantic or otherwise.

I see Calum singing and playing on stage with all the passion in the world and know that someday I’ll share that same love of life.

And I see Ashton, speaking so eloquently and passionately and deeply during interviews, and I’m amazed at how a person can come out of the darkest mental place and come out better. I know that I will grow into a greater person.

5sos has an influence on all ages. Us young fans didn’t get to experience it in real time, but we still saw the boys go through every trial of life and come out better for it. They’re continuing to put out music that covers real topics and real problems. We all saw 5sos take every risk and stand up for what they believe in, and they continue to do so, and that gives us the strength to go on. We look at 5sos now and know that one day we’ll be okay.

Young fans are out here. Our experiences are just a little different, and I thought it was time someone shed some light on it. We’re still just as prepared to defend and support 5sos as any of you are. So remember that we’re here.

And remember that 5sos’s influence goes deeper than we think.

[e-seal-deactivated20210319]

Oh fuck I forgot I’m stupid *goes and lays in the street*

[butchtj-deactivated20190316]

Do any other american high schoolers have intense survivor’s guilt and trauma with school shootings even though they weren’t at your school?

[butchtj-deactivated20190316]

Like. A laser tag place opened geared towards teenagers and it got no business, we tried to enjoy it but when someone pointed a laser machine gun at me and I instinctively dropped behind the nearest wall and reached to turn off my phone I cried, I wasn’t the only one. The announcements system turns on at an unexpected time and everyone holds their breath until they say something besides “locks, lights, out of sight,” nobody even jokingly pops chip bags anymore, a door slammed really loud during a class change and everyone dropped and ran. Everyone cries during drills, even the toughest ranch kids. Every drill comes with a full day of teachers crying and telling us that they love us all so much and will die for us, and every kid in every class looking around wondering who would I die for? Who would die for me? You walk to the bathroom and wonder every second if it happens right now, where will I go? You test supply closet doors to see which ones are unlocked, you memorize which furniture in the teachers’ lounge your English teacher says is light enough to barricade a door with. The fire alarm goes off and nobody moves, instead you wait for gunshots—it a trap? You stand with a group of freshmen and realize that you’re the oldest, you know you’ll have to die for them. You forget your ID tag and worry that now the police won’t be able to tell your parents if you’re safe, or not safe. Your stats teacher has a baseball bat by the door, your math teacher keeps a stapler under each desk to throw, your drama teacher asks who will be willing to stand by the non-locking door with the Shakespearean swords. Your yearbook teacher tells you don’t worry about breaking a camera because you heard about the kids who died holding them. You don’t use the bathroom during classes because you don’t want to be the only target to shoot at. You keep your phone on silent 24/7 because you worry the one time you forget will be when you get your whole US History class killed. You have a snap saved with your class schedule and school and full name to send in an instant to your internet friends so they know if you were on that wing, you have a note saved with the things you want your mom to know and the things you’re sorry for. At the age of 12 I was told I needed to know who I would die for and that it was okay if it was nobody, that was my decision to make. School shootings control us more than adults and non-Americans could possibly imagine and nobody moves to change anything unless we’re actively screaming for it. Have you considered we’re too scared?