When you grow up as a girl, the world tells you the things that you are supposed to be: emotional, loving, beautiful, wanted. And then when you are those things, the world tells you they are inferior: illogical, weak, vain, empty. The world teaches you that the way you exist in it is disgusting — you watch boys cringe backward in your dorm room when you talk about your period, blue water pretending to be blood in a maxi pad commercial. It is little things, and it is constant. In a food court in a mall, after you go to the gynecologist for the first time, you and your friend talk about how much it hurts, and over her shoulder you watch two boys your age turn to look at you and wrinkle their noses: the reality of your life is impolite to talk about. The world says that you don’t have a right to the space you occupy, any place with men in it is not yours, you and your body exist only as far as what men want to do with it. At fifteen, you find fifteen-year-old boys you have never met somehow believe you should bend your body to their will. At almost thirty, you find fifteen-year-old boys you have never met still somehow believe you should bend your body to their will. They are children. They are children.
— Stevie Nicks (via elliesattlers)
(via thecourtneycampaign)
Me no study
Me no care
Me go marry
A millionare
If he die
Me no cry
Me go marry
Another guy
(via andglamourkills)
Cuddle buddy application
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Big/little spoon:
Favorite movie:
Favorite band:
Is it okay if I fall asleep:
Are kisses allowed:
Are pants required:
When are you available for cuddles:
My place or yours:
Will you play with my hair:
(via thefeistymidget)
remember when my boyfriend shaded the fuck out of lady gaga









