Through these blue eyes

Photobucketlove crazyPhotobucket


Everything I have ever written, I have come to realize, has been written for you.
But it is with the walls that lay in crumpled heaps beside my mosquito-bitten legs that I understand just how real this all seems to be. Just how breakable it all truly is. So, please, when you read through my thoughts- my mad, broken, scattered thoughts- remember that it was all written for you.


I have nothing and so much more than I have to prove. This is for me. This is for you. I have nothing to give, but I pray you accept this, and I pray that if you can't that someday you will.

I remember crying over you, and I don’t mean a couple of tears and I’m blue. I’m talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon.
The Avett Brothers, Tear Down the House (via sequences)

(Source: aninsignificantlittlespeck)


It was exciting to see her grow—both of us grow and change together. But then, that’s the hard part—growing without growing apart, or changing without it scaring the other person.

(Source: deepseababy)

La Grande Tapisserie (The Great Tapestry) by Julien des Monstiers, 2013.

(Source: noiseman)

fvming:

People who can keep their cool when being told off or made fun of are not to be messed with

(Source: fvming)

legains:

If you had sex today I hate you.

ewok89:

“They say I have a sweet ass, nice tits, a real pretty dress. They say I’m their future wife, or I’d look good with their dick in my mouth. They try (and probably succeed at times) to take pictures down my shirt. They ask if they can get my number, they ask where I live, why I’m not smiling, why my boyfriend lets me walk around by myself. Then they ask why I’m such a bitch, if my pussy is made of ice. They say that they never do this, as though I’ve somehow driven them to inappropriate behavior and deserve it. They say they’re just having fun, trying to pay me a compliment. Pretty frequently they get mean, slipping into a loud tourettes-like chant of bitch-whore-cunt-slut.
Before you try to tell me that it’s because I take my clothes off for a living, let me tell you that this started way before I was 18. Let me tell you that every single woman I know has at least one truly terrifying story of street harassment and a whole bunch of other stories that are merely insulting or annoying. Let me remind you that in a room of pornography fans, who have actually seen me with a dick in my mouth and who can buy a replica of my vagina in a can or box, I am treated with far more respect than I am walking down the street.”
—Stoya

ewok89:

They say I have a sweet ass, nice tits, a real pretty dress. They say I’m their future wife, or I’d look good with their dick in my mouth. They try (and probably succeed at times) to take pictures down my shirt. They ask if they can get my number, they ask where I live, why I’m not smiling, why my boyfriend lets me walk around by myself. Then they ask why I’m such a bitch, if my pussy is made of ice. They say that they never do this, as though I’ve somehow driven them to inappropriate behavior and deserve it. They say they’re just having fun, trying to pay me a compliment. Pretty frequently they get mean, slipping into a loud tourettes-like chant of bitch-whore-cunt-slut.

Before you try to tell me that it’s because I take my clothes off for a living, let me tell you that this started way before I was 18. Let me tell you that every single woman I know has at least one truly terrifying story of street harassment and a whole bunch of other stories that are merely insulting or annoying. Let me remind you that in a room of pornography fans, who have actually seen me with a dick in my mouth and who can buy a replica of my vagina in a can or box, I am treated with far more respect than I am walking down the street.

—Stoya

(Source: praxis89)

I ignored your aura but it grabbed me by the hand, like the moon pulled the tide, and the tide pulled the sand.

Talib Kweli

Everything you love is here

(via lovequotesrus)

(Source: crowmantic)


The Wanderer.

Show me my favorite color, have it painted on the walls. Show me how you know me, catch my broken bits that fall. Don’t let me keep you wanting, don’t allow your dreams to die simply because this shallow soul can’t bear to see you fly. I’m angry, disrespectful, only looking out for what I need. I need you bending, need you broken so that you may never see the demon that lays in me, sleeping soundly in my bed.. It is the truth in every kind word that I have ever said. This demon’s all I have now, it is all that I know. I’ve forgotten where I came from, don’t wait up for me at home. I’ll see you when you leave me, though it won’t keep me up at night. I’ll leave you thirsty, leave you bleeding, and I will not put up a fight when you tell me that you’re hungry and you don’t know where to turn. For I’m the one who’s kept you dazed for so long; now you’re finally starting to learn. Someday you’ll see this demon for all that I truly am. Someday you’ll see the truth’s been hiding, and now all of us are damned.