I’m tired and stressed out and just want to be back in Calgary and have my life together.
Probably the best post I’ve seen in a while.
like 98% of my problems would be solved if i stopped overthinking things and calmed the fuck down and stopped being such a panicky, anxious little shit
in pokemon you can battle a cop
you can battle a cop in real life if you arent a weenie
"Your highness" is gender neutral.
So you know, if you’re ever confused about my pronouns.
alternatively, “your majesty,” “my liege,” and “supreme overlord”
please note that “your grace” is also acceptable
funkysock said: Is this Jayden Smith?
Open Your Eyes To The Truth And Power Within Yourself, The Moon Is Over The Hammy For A Reason. Think.
my parents definitely did not raise me to be a queer feminist filled with the wrath of a thousand enraged dragons and yet here i am
titlecomingnever said: Why do bronies complain about being friendzoned? I thought friendship was magic.
“ Lovers find secret places
inside this violent world
where they make transactions
with beauty. ”
Rumi (via observando)
Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I have already heard the word rubbed raw across the flesh of so many girls before me. Thrown at them like rocks that beat the skin of those we do not understand.
“You are beautiful,” we yell with such contempt. “God dammit, why won’t you just believe me, you’re beautiful!” It is not a compliment. It is a victory march of your own self sacrifice. “You’re beautiful,” we say through gritted teeth. “You’re beautiful,” we spit out through tears, looking at a reflection we hate. “You’re beautiful,” we say, holding a body that has never felt the arms of another. “You’re beautiful.”
Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. A word like that floats on the surface, give me something with depth. Tell me I’m intelligent. Tell me I’m courageous. Tell me that when I laugh the whole world smiles. Tell me that my voice is sweeter than strawberries. Remind me that my hands have helped flowers grow, painted the ocean, and captured the sky in my phone. Assure me that with a mind like mine, I can change the world.
Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I don’t really care if it’s true. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that beauty goes through and through. Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I’ve felt the word splatter against me enough for a lifetime. I am better than the “beautiful” that slips from your lips. I am the ocean, 36,000 feet deep. There are parts of me you have never seen. I am outer space, infinite in your search. I am not simply “beautiful.” I’m a fucking masterpiece.
Not Everyone is Beautiful (via dingyfeathers)