Mums are the best- new adorable teacup for my recovery ☕️🎀

ekoenig:

*sunlight hits your laptop screen*

wow 

every piece of dust in the world

it’s here

(Source: hotsenator, via crystallized-teardrops)

 
I love you, but I’m mad at you is one of the most freeing, important things you can say in a stable relationship. Does that make sense? To know that you have the ability and the right to be mad at someone and know that it doesn’t mean things are over, that it doesn’t mean things are irreparable. That it just means I’m mad, but God, I love you. I love you. Now leave me alone.
If homophobia were a conversation about food...
  • Homophobic Person: My favorite food is pizza!
  • Homosexual Person: Cool! My favorite food is pasta!
  • Bisexual Person: I like both!
  • Pansexual Person: Hey guys, I don't have a favorite! I'll pretty much eat what tastes good to me.
  • Asexual Person: I like the way food looks and smells more than the way it tastes.
  • Homophobic Person: whAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU DISGUSTING PEOPLE WHY ISN'T PIZZA YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?!?! YOU'RE GOING TO HELL.

What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are—underneath the year that makes you eleven.

Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.

You don’t feel eleven. Not right away. It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes even months before you say Eleven when they ask you. And you don’t feel smart eleven, not until you’re almost twelve. That’s the way it is.

divasdishblog:

"People are perfectly happy to see women as sex objects, but the actual biology of our bodies is apparently gross and unmentionable."
- Our Bodies, Ourselves.

hi:

seeing your friends when you’re with a really cute person

image

(via lubricates)

Nature is busy creating absolutely unique individuals, whereas culture has invented a single mold to which all must conform. It is grotesque.

greencrook:

greencrook:

My uni students asked me if they had homework for the holidays and I felt so bad for them and their tired, dead eyes that I told them to just mail me pics of their favorite pokemons.  

Three students sent me digimons I can’t fucking trust them with anything I give up

(via lubricates)

<---DONT REMOVE---->
A snazzyspace.com Theme A snazzyspace.com Theme