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“Relax. You will become an adult. You will figure out your career. You will find someone who loves you. You have a whole lifetime; time takes time. The only way to fail at life is to abstain.”

Johanna de Silentio (via wordsthat-speak)

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“If you don’t end up smiling while you are kissing someone, you are probably kissing the wrong person.”

I wish I learned this before (via lil-plant-princess)

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1. Because a woman brought into this world will inevitably be given pepper spray “just in case.”

2. Because by sixteen, a young girl knows how to avoid being sexually assaulted, while a boy of the same age does not fear sexual assault in the slightest.

3. Because a girl who mocks men is a bitch, and a boy who mocks women is joking.

4. Because a girl who has sex is a slut, and a boy who has sex is a man.

5. Because in a murder, the killer is at fault, but the blame of rape is often put on the victim.

6. Because we teach girls how not to get raped instead of teaching anyone simply not to rape.

7. Because a woman should put more clothes on if her outfit makes a man uncomfortable, because his self control is her responsibility.

8. Because feminists just need to chill out.

9. Because a 22 year old sex-obsessed virgin can murder 7 people, and the problem is that someone should’ve just slept with him.

10. Because not all men are predators, but yes, all women are prey.

(via onefitmodel)

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It has never been easy. When I was sixteen, I knew every potentially fatal thing in my house: Nail polish remover under the sink. Bottle of rubbing alcohol beside it. Hammer in the tool box. Forty foot bridge across the highway. Traffic outside my window.

I thought about slamming my own head against a counter until I lost feeling. I thought about punching myself in the face until I stopped breathing. I thought about running out into the street at two a.m. and waiting until a car came.

I never thought I’d make it to twenty-five. But I told myself to stay. Just for a little longer. Just to see.

So I did. I sat silent amongst my friends, searching for a way to speak. I stopped leaving my house. I swapped sleeping for staying up all night, staring at my bedroom walls. When someone came into my room to talk to me, I started crying. But I stayed. Because I thought, if I plan on dying in a few years anyway, what do I have to lose? And some days I didn’t feel like I was being swallowed whole. Some days I sat by my pool and sang until the sun set. Some days I kissed somebody on their parent’s couch and didn’t feel lonely when I got to my own bed. Some days I listened to a really great song and felt understood, if only for a second.

I stayed. And still I thought about bridges. And hammers to the head. And swallowing acetone to cleanse my insides. But slowly slowly slowly I began to understand that it was okay to cry, and shake, and feel anything but okay. I realized that there would still be days that my fist would rise to my cheek. And still, my face would sometimes resemble a bruised peach.

But now I tear up my lists of potentially ways to die before I complete them. I replace prescription: pills, rubbing alcohol, and razors with memories of the good days. Of holding your hand through the entire state of Oregon. Of running half-naked down a snowy street three New Year’s ago. Of riding go-carts in the Canadian wilderness. Of smoking cigarettes on the beach in San Francisco with someone I met six months ago. If I had left, we would not know each other.

If you feel the same way, stay. For the good days. And the sunsets. And the people out there who understand. Stay because being submerged in black water does not mean you have to drown. Stay. Just for a little longer. Just to see.

Stay | Lora Mathis 

Erase the stigma behind mental illness. Being alive isn’t easy. We all have to help each other out. Losing Robin Williams to depression was a tragedy. Reach out to those around you and always offer help. 

(via lora-mathis)

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“I want to be inside your darkest everything.”

Frida Kahlo, from The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait  (via raspberrymilk)

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Two Years.

wxissschnee:

I spent two years

learning to put myself together.

Will it take another two years

to learn how to hold it together?

Day 36 of 365.

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1. Lay on the floor of your shower until you can breathe again. Water will always love to love your skin.

2. Start writing with the intention of filling up one page. Write until your pen stops working.

3. Reread a book that once made you cry. Learn something new on every page. Notice how different chapter make you sad. Notice how the book didn’t change and grow; you did.

4. Sleep with your windows open. You can hear both the rain and boys drunkenly singing Frank Sinatra on their deck. Both are equally good.

5. Don’t forget that honey will always taste sweet, but the best way to eat it is off your fingers, laughing.

6. Remember that, sometimes, getting out of bed is enough.

 For unhappy girls who like sitting in the sun (h.f.j.)

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officialannakendrick:

i used to be passive aggressive, but now i’m aggressively passive. don’t mess with me kiddo. i’ll be right here. i’ll fucking forgive you

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“Home is in my hair, my lips, my arms, my thighs, my feet and my hands. I am my own home. And when I wake up crying in the morning, thinking of how lonely I am, I pinch my skin, tug at my hair, remind myself that I am alive. Remind myself to step outside and greet the morning. Remind myself that it’s all about forward motion. It’s all about change. It’s all about that elusive state.
Freedom.”

Diriye Osman, Fairytales for Lost Children (via shittyteenblog)

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I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.

Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them  (via beatboxgoesthump)

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