the type of boyfriends you guys got terrify me, like you guys say ‘he’s still a good guy though,’ ‘he has a good heart,’ ‘He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met,’
after giving me a laundry list of abuse, predatory behavior, sexual assault, and cruelty.
Treat yourself right, just because he’s ‘the sweetest guy’ you’ve ever met doesn’t stop other men from being sweeter. It seems like anyone short of an axe murderer is suddenly a top pick because women are so use to abuse we don’t understand when someone is being nice, versus ‘well, he’s not hitting me now,’
If you say no, cry, push him, look uncomfortable, freeze up, and he keeps going without checking in or giving a shit, he’s a rapist.
If he is hits you, calls you names, keeps you from your friends, constantly insults everything you are and like, constantly checks your phone and doesn’t allow any kind of privacy, he’s abusive.
These are not ‘Nice guys’ these are not ‘sweet, kind’ guys, These people are rapists, abusers, and they are using you and don’t give two shits about you. They enjoy hurting you. They enjoy making you feel like shit so that you won’t leave them, because with you they are powerless, you are the only thing that makes them feel empowered, because you hold all the chips in this. Without you they are nothing. I know its hard to leave an abusive situation, I know you’re risking everything, but don’t delude yourself into thinking… you deserve this, that this is normal, this is okay, because it’s not and you don’t. And no amount of sweet smiles, or flowers, should be able to make up raping you, abusing you, hitting you, whatever.
Just please fucking be safe
hi mup. i’m not sure how to go about this, because i’m in the same situation. i’m filled with self loathing pretty much all the time. it’s really draining, i’m sure you know the feeling. i’m just trying to tell myself that what i look like doesn’t correlate to my worth, although what i hate about myself the most is what’s inside lmao :(
it’s a struggle, boo. but we’re closer to the end of this road than we used to be, and that’s worth celebrating.
i love you mup <3
Harry owns so many wonderful coats i want to build a fort out of them and bury myself into it when I’m cold and sad
rapt // karen o
love is soft, love’s a fucking bitch
do i really need another habit like you?
i really need, do you need me too?
i believe it’s gonna leave me blue
oh thank u!!! i used to love lights, siberia is a goddamn masterpiece. i’ll make sure to check her newest out too!!
FKA Twigs and Robert Pattinson out and about in Brussels on 16 October.
i had a crush on this guy and i decided to pull a Pavlov on him by offering him whenever i saw him this brand of candy he seemed to really like and after a while whenever he saw me he got excited for a second then you could see his expression shift to wondering the why the hell was he so happy to see me and i swear it was the evilest thing but also the most hilarious i made a guy like me by conditioning him into associating me to a candy he liked
hi bug. i’ve never been in a relationship either so i think i’m the worst person to ask lmao :( but really, it’s all about how you feel. is he making you feel appreciated? loved? listened to? respected?
i think you have to decide for yourself what you want out of a relationship, and talk to him accordingly.
good night bug ilu <3
You’re standing against a wall, holding onto a girl whose knees you’ve shot without touching. Holding, but not in the way you’ve ever known it. Hold like you’re drowning, hold like you’re buried, hold until your arms are trembling from the strength of it. She’s elastic against you, she’s all wilting and drooping and long long lashes hiding eyes painted black from wanting. She won’t look at you because she doesn’t know how to without spilling desire.
You’re both talking a language that neither of you can understand. But it sounds like ‘please’ or it sounds like ‘touch me everywhere.’ But this is more than your fingers or your mouth. This is the five seconds that it takes to peel her self-conscious away from her body. This is the five minutes of holding her hips between your hands and pressing your fingers into the stretch marks there and saying ‘you’re so fucking beautiful.’ This is really meaning it. This is thanking God for your hands and their ability to feel. You think maybe the dip of her sternum is forgiveness. This is how the soft of her against you makes your breath ragged. This is your chest heaving and sweat on your upper lip. The way you’ve forgotten the first name of every girl you’ve ever touched. The way her hair feels between your knuckles when you yank it. The noise she makes.
This is the hour that it takes for her to believe that you want her, skin and all. And when she believes you, you’ll know. Her defences will fall off her like water. She’ll shrug the sweater off her shoulders and that strip of bare skin will drive you so crazy that you’ll think about it for weeks later and it’ll make you hard again. You’ll text her saying that you’re thinking about her and your colleagues will ask why the freckles on your cheeks have connected to turn you bright red and you’ll mumble something about the sun. It’s not the sun. It’s the way she fell apart when you bit her neck and moaned honey into her throat. You’ll both be so brimming the ocean will rise jealous to see you. You’ll meet a girl and she’ll trust you and it will feel like undressing with all your clothes still on. It’ll feel like the raw of a wound and the relief of healing. She’ll put her throat in your open hands and close her eyes. This is what trust looks like.
Dip your fingers into her swollen mouth. Lean closer, breathe the words, you’ll fill her like this: ‘you are so beautiful and I’m going to put my hands everywhere.’"
You carry the heavens
in you eyes
like one of those old
And I’d call you Atlas,
but he wasn’t given
a choice to hold the stars.