it’s not about your boobs ladies. it’s about what’s under your boobs. your lungs, because we are gonna be blazing a lot of kush and you need to keep up.
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Some women sexualize men’s muscles the way some men sexualize women’s boobs.
SOMEONE SAID IT
Yes, but no one is telling to cover them up because it’s indecent
LOCKED CHAINED AND FUCKING OWNED
not only that but women do not shout things like “nice fuckin guns, ya fine piece of dick” and “I’d like to rub oil all over your muscled body” at men on the street soo
ya fine piece of dick
When a random person looks at your dash while you scroll
- Person: What's that?
- Person: Why is that on there?
- Person: Who is that?
- Person: Those shoes are weird.
- Person: Did I just see boobs?
- Person: Butts?
- Me: ...You must not have a tumblr.
”are you seriously wearing no makeup?” “thats why you look tired” “you let yourself go” “your hair looked prettier before you cut it” “your boobs and butt arent big enough” “wow your thighs” “are those scars” “you’d be prettier if-“
how
about
you
shut
the
fuck
up
why are bras and period products so fucking expensive okay this shit pisses me off, it’s not like i asked for boobs or for my vagina to destroy itself every month
Much more likely you’ll hurt me. Still what does it matter? If I’ve got to suffer, it may as well be at your hands, your pretty hands.
You can accept or reject the way you are treated by other people, but until you heal the wounds of your past, you will continue to bleed. You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex, but eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life. You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories, and make peace with them.
marry me.
let’s spend our week nights eating cereal on the floor
when there is a perfectly fine table behind us.
we can go to the movies and sit in the back row
just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time.marry me.
we’ll paint the rooms of our house
and get more paint on us than the walls.
we can hold hands and go to parties we end up
ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub.marry me.
and slow dance with me in our bedroom
with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand.
let me love you forever.
marry me.
d.a.h (via whisperingbones)
I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know that there’s nothing but light when I see you.
