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(Source: virgin-suicide-s, via whatever-floats-our-boat)

(Source: tapwaterfanclub, via metalhearted)

(Source: kawaii-ocean, via strawberrycremeee)


never like a boy you’ll end up either hating them or hating yourself

(via c0mplexions)


hotels can’t be boring to me

they’re just fun

even if i’m sitting in the room watching tv or riding the elevator or sleeping it’s just fun for some reason like they’re average every day things but in a hotel everything is way more amusing and interesting and just simply being in a hotel is fun to me and i don’t understand

(Source: jaclcfrost, via wilfcats)

(Source: xeptum, via soulful-tree)


The front bottoms 😍

(Source: oalat, via soulful-tree)

(Source: t-i-m-e-c-h-a-n-g-e, via eclecticpandas)


dear one year old me: speak up

dear two year old me: speak up

dear three year old me: speak up

dear four year old me: speak up

dear five year old me: speak up. please.

dear six year old me: just because he’s gone doesn’t mean you won’t be scared of high fives and fist bumps, because when you see clenched fingers, duck.

dear seven year old me: you’ll cuddle his old teddy bear and cry that you don’t have a daddy. it’s okay to want a father who hurts you over not having a father at all. your mother does not understand this.

dear eight year old me: wearing the shirts he left behind won’t make him come back

dear nine year old me: his birthday card for you isn’t late, it just isn’t coming

dear ten year old me: all of your friends have smiling dads, but you’ve been raised by an army of strong women and gay men. you’re doing just fine

dear eleven year old me: tell your mom he’s a bad idea

dear twelve year old me: please note the men in your life are garbage, but that doesn’t mean all men are garbage

dear thirteen year old me: tell him off sooner, his wandering eyes will turn into wandering hands and rape jokes. attention from boys is not always positive

dear fourteen year old me: your mother married a man who will threaten to kill you and you will run away. change into warmer clothes and put some shoes on.

dear fifteen year old me: speak up

dear sixteen year old me: speak up

dear seventeen year old me: speak up


kayla w. “happy father’s day” (via apocellipsis)

"I have a heart that kills nothing but myself."

just another early AM thought (via v-alotelli)


You and I are made of bad habits.
Like bricks, we’ve stacked them
one on top of another
until two beautiful fucking disasters
were built.

Maybe I smoke too much.
I watch my breath leave my lungs to know
that there’s something left
inside of me.
And maybe you drink
to kill what’s inside of you.
I don’t know.
I won’t act like I do.

But I’ve been biting my nails
and I think it’s because
I wish you were here biting my lip
but I’ll keep biting my tongue
which you
have a bad habit of doing.
And I know you don’t sleep enough
because I don’t either,
but I like to think
that if we were tangled in each other
we’d sleep just fine,
or at least be ok
with staying up all night.

And if you could taste my lips
you wouldn’t be thirsty
for anything else.
And if I could breathe you in
I would hate the smell of smoke in comparison.

I often find myself thinking about you
and imagining
you’re across the world
finding yourself thinking about me too.
It’s the only habit
I’m not trying to kick.


"Habits" by Lizzy Faire (via sin-ers)