Install this theme

I want to call in sick to work but I can’t afford not to work and also I have an orientation I can’t miss today.

But crying a lot makes me feel disgusting the next day. Blehhhh.

meowmeowpurring:

Martin Freeman Does Not Want to be Your Friend [X]

meowmeowpurring:

Martin Freeman Does Not Want to be Your Friend [X]

homosocks:

shout out to the people who never unfollow me for some reason even when i never post anything relevant to their interests

As women, when we’re children we’re taught to enter the world with big hearts. Blooming hearts. Hearts bigger than our damn fists. We are taught to forgive - constantly - as opposed to what young boys are taught: Revenge, to get ‘even.’ Our empathy is constantly made appeals to, often demanded for. If we refuse to show kindness, we are reprimanded. We are not good women if we do not crush our bones to make more space for the world, if we do not spread our entire skin over rocks for others to tread on, if we do not kill ourselves in every meaning of the word in the process of making it cozy for everyone else. It is the heat generated by the burning of our bodies with which the world keeps warm. We are taught to sacrifice so much for so little. This is the general principle all over the world.

By the time we are young women, we are tired. Most of us are drained. Some of us enter a lock of silence because of that lethargy. Some of us lash out. When I think of that big, blooming heart we once had, it looks shriveled and worn out now. When I was teaching, I had a young student named Mariam. She was only 11 years old. Some boy pushed her around in class, called her names, broke her spirit for the day. We were sitting under a chestnut tree on a field trip and she asked me if a boy ever hurt me. I told her many did and I destroyed them one by one. I think that’s the first time she ever heard the word ‘destroyed.’ We rarely teach our girls to fight back for the right reasons.

Take up more space as a woman. Take up more time. Take your time. You are taught to hide, censor, move about without messing up decorum for a man’s comfort. Whether it’s said or not, you’re taught balance. Forget that. Displease. Disappoint. Destroy. Be loud, be righteous, be messy. Mess up and it’s fine – you are learning to unlearn. Do not see yourself like glass. Like you could get dirty and clean. You are flesh. You are not constant. You change. Society teaches women to maintain balance and that robs us of our volatility. Our mercurial hearts. Calm and chaos. Love only when needed; preserve otherwise.

Do not be a moth near the light; be the light itself. Do not let a man’s ocean-big ego swallow you up. Know what you want. Ask yourself first. Decide your own pace. Decide your own path. Be cruel when needed. Be gentle only when needed. Collapse and then re-construct. When someone says you are being obscene, say yes I am. When they say you are being wrong, say yes I am. When they say you are being selfish, say yes I am. Why shouldn’t I be? How do you expect a woman to stand on her two feet if you keep striking her at the ankles.

There are multiple lessons we must teach our young girls so that they render themselves their own pillars instead of keeping male approval as the focal point of their lives. It is so important to state your feelings of inconvenience as a woman. We are instructed to tailor ourselves and our discomfort - constantly told that we are ‘whining’ and ‘nagging’ and ‘complaining too much.’ That kind of silence is horribly violent, that kind of insistence upon uniformly nodding in agreement to your own despair, and smiling emptily so no man is ever uncomfortable around us. Male-entitlement dictates a woman’s silence. If we could see the mimetic model of the erasure of a woman’s voice, it would be an incredibly bloody sight.

On a breezy July night, my mother and I were sleeping under the open sky. Before dozing off, I told her that I think there is a special place in heaven where all wounded women bury their broken hearts and their hearts grow into trees that only give fruit to the good and poison to the bad. She smiled and said Ameen. Then she closed her eyes.

A Woman of War by Mehreen Kasana (via saucymerbabe)

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Clarity Haynes

Clarity Haynes a Brooklyn-based painter, focuses on non-traditional images and ideas of womanhood, beauty, sexuality and gender expression.
‘The Breast Portrait Project’ also explores illness, aging, mortality and the shifting nature of the body. Clarity explains: “I am interested in the many ways the body changes throughout a lifetime, and in the ways in which we create and change our bodies”.

Website

antisepticbandaid:

destroy the idea that you have to be skinny and androgynous to be non-binary

pearlsnapbutton:

::tina belcher groan::

he inhaled his scent. he smelled of (ingredient 1), (ingredient 2) and something undefinable, that was uniquely (name of buttsex partner)
every single fanfiction uploaded in the last two years oh my god  (via brood-of-froods)

My real-life sexual partner smells of 1) Biolage shampoo, 2) her perfume of choice that day, and 3) something that is essentially HER and not like anything else.

Maybe the reason that you SEE this so often in fanfics (which people create for you on their own time for FREE), is because it is actually something that is part of ACTUAL INTIMACY for many people.

Posts like this can not only take away from the enjoyment that some people get from fanfics, they can actively discourage others from writing (or continuing to write).

I get that it was probably not the point of the post, but do remember that you are paying exactly nothing for hours and hours of material you then hold up for criticism this way.

(via valeria2067)

hellabloggin:

im so pro-selfie like there are so many bigger problems in the world than girls who think theyre pretty

one of those problems is girls who dont think theyre pretty

How do I ask for help and who do I ask for help? The nothing is eating a hole through my chest and I can’t fucking stand it.

The Monterey bay aquarium has an exhibit right now called “Tentacles” and every time I hear a commercial for it I snicker like a perv.

lgbthenry:

There is a difference between:

a queer character whose story doesn’t revolve around them being queer

and

a queer character whose story completely ignores the fact that they are queer

Can’t decide if my wanting to lie in bed all day with the dogs is self care, laziness, or a manifestation of my depression ish. All these things? Something else? In any case it’s all I want to do.

How to block Sponsored Posts on your Dashboard

nekomimiclay:

ookiepigster:

Tumblr has recently introduced Sponsored Posts. These posts can come from anyone, regardless of whether or not you follow them, and are primarily for advertising. If you want to block them, simply install Tumblr Savior and blacklist “sponsored_badge_icon” (without the quotes).

Oh wow OK let’s please signal boost this because some recent ones have been GIFs of horror and so on, and that makes Tumblr incredibly unsafe for a good amount of people. S: