I wonder if you ever talk about missing me to anyone.
(via fearlessknightsandfairytales)
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11/10/2014 . 18,797 notes . Reblog
poetic-ness:


"When they don’t love you the way you want to, you mourn that for however long you need to. But then you get back up and you remind yourself. You are not a reflection of the people who can’t love you. You will love again. You will be loved again." - Caitlyn Siehl 

Needed this

poetic-ness:

"When they don’t love you the way you want to, you mourn that for however long you need to. But then you get back up and you remind yourself. You are not a reflection of the people who can’t love you. You will love again. You will be loved again." - Caitlyn Siehl 

Needed this

11/10/2014 . 60,945 notes . Reblog

hidden-ustulations:

Oh gosh, I would like this too, pretty please

11/10/2014 . 21,963 notes . Reblog
The years between eighteen and twenty-eight are the hardest, psychologically. It’s then you realize this is make or break, you no longer have the excuse of youth, and it is time to become an adult – but you are not ready.
(via hoochiemermaid)

Accurate…

(via itshoneydew)
11/10/2014 . 427,398 notes . Reblog

skankmcmeow:

I see your shifting gaze, that disgusted glance. I know you’re questioning my parenting from across the elementary school assembly.

Let me tell you a little story about the kindergarten student with bright purple hair, my little Raven Marie…

A month before school started she decided to play hair stylist with the craft scissors, and to save what was left I had to opt for a pixie cut. She was absolutely devastated. It was about three hours before she stopped her harsh sobbing and hiccups.

Why?

She has thought that the length of a girls hair was what made her “girly”. I know I’ve personally had many hairstyles around her before, including a purple mohawk, which many people criticized as not being “girly” enough. Media, other children, other parents, and society made it worse. She would randomly burst in tears while out in public for the first week of her new style, screaming that she looked like a boy. That everyone would think she’s a boy.

At one point she took off her bow in her hair, threw it at a cashier and screamed, “I DON’T NEED THIS BOW TO TELL YOU THAT I’M NOT A BOY, BECAUSE I’M NOT”

Proudly stomping away in her blue jean overalls, head held high.

Once we edged closer to the first day of school she kept asking questions like, “Do you think the other kids will like me? Do you think they’ll be my friend? Will they think I’m a boy? Will they pick on me because I have boy hair?”

So I went to the grocery store, bought some dye, and spent the whole night transforming my bright blonde little girl into a plum punk rock fairy. I then assured her that if any of the kids didn’t like her, they were just jealous.

As for you, mothers and teachers with the wandering eyes filled with disgust and judgement, I’m in the business of raising a free spirit.

Here’s to you, Raven Marie. I love you.

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Anonymous said: Did u get a new number? I've tried texting you but I get no response

Who r u

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17/9/2014 . 416 notes . Reblog

souramagazine:

Introducing the music icons, illustration by Renato Cunha!

17/9/2014 . 1,339 notes . Reblog

8/9/2014 . 68 notes . Reblog