I'm done loading
but what about all these blank pictures and gifs
did I fucking stutter
It’s not that men are unable to control their sexual desires. It’s that they’re taught that they neither can nor have to, so they choose - unconsciously or otherwise - not to.
*looks at you seductively* *lowers glasses* i can’t see a thing
reblog if you ARE gay, if you SUPPORT gays, or if you like to OPEN people’s WINDOWS in the middle of the NIGHT and put DOZENS of GEESE in their BEDROOMS
DID YOU GUYS HEAR THAT BASICALLY THE HIGH-UP DUDES IN JSA (JUNIOR STATE OF AMERICA, A NATIONAL ORGANIZATION FOR HIGHSCHOOL STUDENTS WHO WANT TO GET INVOLVED IN OUR GOVERNMENT; WE HAVE DEBATES AND CONVENTIONS AND STUFF IT’S CHILL AND ALSO HIGH UP PEOPLE IN JSA USUALLY GET…
1. wear more black
2. be meaner to boys
3. do homework maybe
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.
is it rude to kill yourself in the middle of class