Thanks for noticing
primary source of income: when my mom gives me money to buy something and doesn’t ask for the change back
When I say “please don’t take a picture of me” it’s not because I’m being bitchy and stubborn, it’s because if I see that picture I will seriously feel so bad about myself and think I am the ugliest thing on earth and sink a little deeper into self consciousness and hatred.
gUys i think i just
ate a dog treAT
i thought it was a VANILLA OREO I’M 100% DONE WIHT MYSELF
don’t send me snapchats from something i wasn’t invited to you rude ass bitch
Know what’s so perfect about this black and white Hazel and Augustus photo? It’s slightly out of focus and looks real. That means a great deal to those of us who hold this story so dear.
If you take a young man and woman and they both tell a stranger that they work in the same restaurant, it’s very likely that they will assume that the woman is the waitress, and the young man a cook.
But I thought a woman’s place was in the kitchen? Not when she’s being paid for it. I can’t believe it took me this long to realize the implication of this. A woman’s place is one of servitude.
this fucking hit me like a fucking train
listening to covers is all well and good until u realise the singer changed the pronouns to pull a musical no homo
if u smell good, we cool
my father told me once to never date anyone who talks smoothly around you from the start because if someone likes you they should be a little nervous and honestly i think that’s some of the best advice anyone has ever given me
vine fame is honestly ridiculous to me u mean ppl are doing meet n greets and signing autographs cuz they did something ridiculous for 6 seconds
Painless ways to kill yourself.
i. There is no painless way to kill yourself, someone, somewhere, will feel the pain.
ii. The internet says, “sleeping pills, you will fall asleep and never wake up! You won’t feel a thing!” When that is a lie, your stomach will turn to fire and your throat will fill with the taste of your own stomach acid. You will drown in your own spit. That isn’t even the worst party, it’s when your mother comes home from work. She will walk through the door, and call out your name. She will call and call and there will be no response, maybe you’re in the shower? Maybe you’re asleep? She will walk up the stairs, knock on your door to receive no answer. When she walks in she will see the lifeless body of her baby girl, lying on the floor. Her heart will stop but she will run to you with shaky knees, touching your face that is now still and cold. Her body will be on fire, and her throat will begin to tighten, the sharp pains in her chest will feel like knives in the heart. That image will kill her more than her own death, it will haunt her living years each night. She will no longer be alive, but just as dead as you are now.
iii. Years ago, your father showed you the gun safe he kept in the house in case of emergencies, you knew the pass code, you knew how to shoot and loud, at least you had an idea. They say a bullet to the brain will do the job.. So one night, when your father is fast asleep, you will be down the hallway staring down the mouth of a gun.
One, two, three..
Your father’s heart will jump and his body will follow, the first thing he thinks of is you. He will scream your name and run down the hallway and bang on your door. It’s locked. His knees begin to feel weak as he bruises his body trying to knock down the door, the first sight he see’s in blood splattered on the wall. At that moment his breath began to stop, and his eyes wandered to yours. Still open, but no more life inside your shell. He will drop to his hands and knees and scream why, why, why. There will never be a day he won’t hate himself, for keeping a gun in the house, for not making you happy, for not knowing. He will live a life without a son, live a life with an empty space. Live a life of hurt, and hatred for himself.
iv. You may think that when you’re dead and gone you will not be hurting anyone. You may think when you slide a blade across your wrist, you’re only hurting yourself. Yet I have learned that is not true, it’s not. The person who will find your body, the one who see’s the cuts, their chest will feel tight and they will feel like it was their fault for letting it get this far. The only mark you will be leaving on them is pain, hurt, and the question why? So please note this, there is pain in every suicide attempt, every death, every cut. You are not only hurting your life, but others too. Because you are cared for.