One Year to One-Thirty

rawunmedicatedheartt:

tuxedosaldente:

shoresoftheshadowlands:

aperfectillusion:

lettersfromdua:

aperfectillusion:

Step 1: Go someplace public with your laptop.

Step 2: Click HERE

Step 3: Press f11

Step 4: Start typing frantically.

Step 5: Make sure…

funnyfacesplace:

angergirl:

AU CONTRAIRE
MY GRANDMA GOT ALL A’S IN “ETIQUETTE” (YES THAT WAS AN ACTUAL CLASS IN HER HIGH SCHOOL) AND SHE TOLD ME, “DEAR,” SHE SAID,
“YOU NEVER CROSS YOUR LEGS, YOU CROSS YOUR ANKLES. BUT THE GREAT THING ABOUT YOU LIVING IN THIS GENERATION IS YOU DON’T HAVE TO FOLLOW MY GENERATION’S RULES. SIT THE WAY YOU WANT. IF SOMEONE LOOKS UP YOUR SKIRT, JUST TELL THEM YOUR AUNT MARY WILL KILL THEM.”WHICH IS TRUE
MY AUNT MARY HAD A SWITCHBLADE IN A SPECIAL POCKET OF HER NIGHTGOWN UNTIL THE DAY SHE DIED
the moral of this story is
1. Sit the way you want.
2. My great aunt Mary was a fucking badass.

Aunt Mary is my new hero

funnyfacesplace:

angergirl:

AU CONTRAIRE

MY GRANDMA GOT ALL A’S IN “ETIQUETTE” (YES THAT WAS AN ACTUAL CLASS IN HER HIGH SCHOOL) AND SHE TOLD ME, “DEAR,” SHE SAID,


YOU NEVER CROSS YOUR LEGS, YOU CROSS YOUR ANKLES. BUT THE GREAT THING ABOUT YOU LIVING IN THIS GENERATION IS YOU DON’T HAVE TO FOLLOW MY GENERATION’S RULES. SIT THE WAY YOU WANT. IF SOMEONE LOOKS UP YOUR SKIRT, JUST TELL THEM YOUR AUNT MARY WILL KILL THEM.

WHICH IS TRUE

MY AUNT MARY HAD A SWITCHBLADE IN A SPECIAL POCKET OF HER NIGHTGOWN UNTIL THE DAY SHE DIED

the moral of this story is

1. Sit the way you want.

2. My great aunt Mary was a fucking badass.

Aunt Mary is my new hero

callmesuspect:

The single best office prank, ever.

Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you?
Alain de Botton, Essays in Love (via wordsnquotes)
There’s that word again. Need. I need you. I need you to need me. How nauseating, to need another human being, as if their heart is in your throat. Love isn’t about need. Don’t romanticize the notion of desperation. Let me let you in on a secret: you don’t need me and I don’t need you. We can get through life just fine without each other. Love is not wanting to. We want each other, we want skin and hands and all our daily scars. We want intoxication and art museums and intertwined limbs. We want ferocity in our lips and tracing slow, small circles on our stomachs. I don’t need you in my life, but goddamn I want you in it.
All the Want in the World Cannot Fit in Our Hands  (via queer-lust)
Do not teach your daughters to be ‘pretty.’
Do not entomb her in a pretty pink tower
and insist that only the degree of her physical appeal
may set her free.
Teach her to fight her way out,
to consume books and spit knowledge
to lesser boys who insist she is just beautiful
and nothing more.
Teach her to love her body
not to manipulate and put a price tag on herself
as a defined worth
she shall be immeasurable
she shall be more than this.
Do not let her break herself down
when the boy in kindergarden hits her
because he likes her.
What are you really teaching her?
Pain and love are not synonymous
neither are pretty and perfection.
Teach her to be kind
to be harsh
to be demure
to be wild
to be sensitive
to be thick-skinned
But good god,
Do not teach your daughters to be ‘pretty.’
 Michelle K., Do Not Teach Your Daughters to Be ‘Pretty. (via onlyblackgirl)
When people stop writing, it’s one of two things - they are either really fucking happy or broken beyond repair.
Ming D. Liu (via seelengekritzel)
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