YOU ARE THE REASON
almost home

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NASA

roma★
taylor price
occasionally subtle
RMH
Peter Solarz
i don't do bad sauce passes
d e v o n

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Not today Justin
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hello vonnie
tumblr dot com
trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art

oozey mess
styofa doing anything
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@you-swim
“my name is BABY and you lean out of your car and spit at my feet it lands in a puddle in front of me and i am thirteen and in a suburban neighborhood on the way home from school and i gag and run with my backpack banging like the echo of your words against my back like you are chasing me all the way home my name is SWEETIE and i am fifteen in the city with my friends for the first time and we get a little lost and you follow us for a full block you name my friends HONEY and DARLING and WHY THE FUCK WON’T YOU TALK TO ME my name is NICE ASS and it’s two in the afternoon and i still feel my heart slam against my ribs because i am under a hundred and fifty pounds and i have weak lungs and weaker fists and while you saunter down the steps, swinging the beer bottle in your fist, my father who is walking behind me shouts, “she’s seventeen, you dipshit” and maybe i’m near my family but i don’t feel safe until we’re home again my name is JAILBAIT and my friend is laughing and we just graduated high school and we feel like we are on the brink of something beautiful and terrifying and she is in heels and about to throw up and you name her DRUNK ENOUGH and i have to physically drag you off and when we go home she cries for four hours because a night that should have been just teenage fun almost resulted in the end of her trust of humans my name is LOOK AT THOSE TITS and we are on a college campus and the boy i am with holds onto my waist just a little tighter while you drive up next to me. you name him THUG and throw a bottle at his forehead. i can’t stop shaking until long after it’s over. he says “it happens,” and i say, “it shouldn’t.” my name is DAMN GIRL and we are walking down the street. there are ten of you and two of us and you snap a picture when you think we’re not looking. you tell us to either come inside or you’ll fuck us on the street. you all laugh like this is funny. this is compliment. this is just something boys do to get ladies. my name is LITTLE LADY, my name is FINE MISS, my name is FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR FRIENDS, my name is LOOK ME IN THE FACE, my name is STOP FROWNING, my name is SMILE, my name is WHY DID YOU EVEN GLANCE AT HIM YOU WERE ASKING FOR IT, my name is THIS IS A COMPLIMENT so i looked it up according to Oxford that’s “a polite expression of praise or admiration” i think you’ve got the definitions mixed up my name is PRETTY THING, my name takes nice words and make them into bullet wounds my name is NICE BODY and no girl i know has dated a man who catcalled her, my name is GREAT RACK and it turns out that if you shout things at a stranger, they sound like knives more than flowers, my name is WOMEN LIKE YOU NEVER KNOW THEIR PLACE and every single “nice” thing you say to a woman is something you’d never utter to another man because you know that it’s derogatory, my name is PRINCESS and A REASON TO GET PUT IN PRISON and if another man spoke to your mother sister girlfriend like that, you’d kill him my name is SEXY and every time i hear someone raising their voice i am thirteen again and i don’t know who you are and i’m running home with a weight on my shoulders and your words like a slap to my spine and your laughter like a hanging, i am scared and alone and suddenly so small, and compliments are supposed to make me feel good not afraid for my life, compliments are a way of saying “i care and i appreciate you and i thought you should know it,” and if you really meant it as a compliment, you’d care about how i would take it - but you don’t mean it like that, you mean it to show off, you mean it to make us object, you mean it to shove our names into your back pocket so you can tell your friends “i saw the HOTTEST LITTLE THING yesterday” and they can groan about how we just walked away because you don’t see us go home with keys in our fists and all the lights on and we keep 911 dialed just in case and we triple-check our locks and we don’t fall asleep at all because your compliment knocked us over and took who we are if we are all saying “it doesn’t sound like a compliment, it sounds like a threat,” if you really wanted to make us feel good - wouldn’t you stop doing it?”
— COMPLIMENT =/= CATCALL // r.i.d (via inkskinned)
i need *bangs fist on table* intimacy
shout out to anyone who has seen me get stupidly emotional and insanely insecure but has stuck around anyway
no matter how many times i hear “i love you”, “i’m not going to abandon you”, “i’m not going anywhere” i’m still so fucking scared of being abandoned
It all goes wrong right around here. When the doctors start looking at you funny and whispering things to your mother while you wait in the hallway and try to understand what you’ve done wrong. You think you’ve got it figured out when you’re eating dinner and you’re not allowed to get up for seconds. It all goes wrong right around here: you have poured the windstorm of your chest into the palms of a boy who smells like pine needles but will never be your lover because he only likes pretty girls but one night when the stars are spelling out stop signs you both choose to ignore, the two of you are half-drunk and hellbent on making bad decisions and when he kisses you, your fingers stumble upon the blades of his hipbones so much more defined than yours have ever been an average of 1.8 people die every second and you discover what it’s like to be that .8 of a person, trapped between breathing and being buried and the hounds that are devouring your heart every minute ask you how you dare to be soft in the face of a boy who only falls for the sharpness of porcelain angels - you do not wake up next to him. you both pretend it never happened. it all goes wrong around here: the corner store where your mother used to buy bathtubs of antiseptic but never managed to actually clean out the things growing inside your heart but right now you’re standing in the aisle where you’re clutching the birthday money your grandmother sent you in one gargoyle palm and trying to decide between diet pills and halloween candy and suddenly it all swings around like a baseball bat like you’ve always kind of been in the middle of a car crash and the impact just caught up so no one loves you. or no one’s loved you the way you wanted them to. it’s just a body, you say, looking in the mirror. it’s just a fucking body. when you find an angle you like, you wish Medusa was real. you wish she’d grab your face and keep you like that forever. a statue. static and cold. it all goes wrong. it all goes wrong. it all goes wrong and you just want the cars to hit each other. you just want to be still. to be stone.
Caitlyn Siehl + r.i.d (via inkskinned)
fake conversations in your head of you venting to someone
how I stay sane
i do bad things because i figure: what’s the point, we’re all going to die. but then the bad thing is done and i’m not dead and i have to live and face the consequences. for some reason i can’t make this recklessness apply to good things. i never throw myself at a wonderful opportunity, only at the ground. i never overthink fucking up; only the idea that i could take something beautiful and mess it all up. i do bad things and then i wonder. huh where did all these bad things come from.
oh my god
everyone needs to see this video at least once in their life
I think my favorite thing about dogs is that they can, in fact, perceive the tone/mood of music, just as they can with human voices.
I think the best part about this is that there was an actual academic study done to find out what music dogs preferred, they set it up by kenneling dogs and figuring out which kind of music caused them to be more relaxed in the situation, and they found out that most dogs prefer soft rock and reggae.
He probably really digs it.
I was in a hospital today and I saw this cute guy with a cast on his leg and my first thought was
hey this one can’t run away
Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.
Another good post to read for those writing small human characters.
My son was about three when he came to me in the middle of the day and said, “Mommy, there’s a knight behind the bush.” I thought he meant a toy knight or something. So I follow him outside and he goes, “Listen. Do you hear it? It’s night behind the bush.” It was a cricket. A cricket was standing in the little patch of shade under the bush, chirping. So, my son saw this dark area with accompanying nighttime sounds and decided, okay, well, that is a night right there. Their brains are incredible.
My little bean knows she’s two, constantly saying proudly ‘I’m two!’ And the other day she saw this very frail old lady who looked one foot in the grave, pulled a face and said ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’ I almost screamed.
I live in Korea and have a lot of international friends, and the same is true with language barriers in adults.
*Looking at a bowl of pears* “Can you please pass me the… apple’s friend?”
OH SHIT SHE’S THREE
why do people say “don’t be a pussy” when talking about weakness more like “don’t be a man’s ego” because you know there isn’t nothing more fragile than that
uh
because “pussy” is the shortened form of the word “pusillanimous”, which means “timid, cowardly”
and not the slang word for the female genital region?
literally no one else knows this. nobody.
WHAT
Sensational.
Remarkable.
it’s a real word
you: pussy
me, an intellectual: pusillanimous
i love saying fuck me because it can either be sexual or self-loathing and those are two things that describe me perfectly
someone: hey are you okay me with no hesitation: *starts crying*