February 2012
2 posts
everything's crazy when you question it all, then...
January 2012
5 posts
jazzedsassmouth: okstupid →
fag-lust:
I think that maybe I should just turn my okcupid profile into a big joke. like, photos of my untoned abs, me drooling or sitting on the toilet.
I’d only exist to make pizza or give blowjobs, or I could expound on bullshit conspiracy theories, talk about how I’m saving all my toenail clippings to…
hey look i have a new blog lets follow it...
dear feminist bitch friend thing,
so you’re “just trying to help” you have some grand master plot to save the world. however my friendships are between myself and that person. not. you. i really don’t care what impression you have or what you think you have all figured out because you haven’t been around for the past year and a half watching all the shit thats happened and the person that has held me...
December 2011
1 post
November 2011
3 posts
I Want To Make A Difference: Thank you to... →
rapeculturemakesmeangry:
nikkidotz:
When I was very young (about 6 or 7 until 10), my grandfather molested me. Countless times. Finally I was old enough to understand it was wrong, and I told my mom. I sometimes regret that because I know it broke her heart. He has since passed on, but I feel no resentment towards him….
its this crazy revelation where i lay around all...
im fucking stoned and i want to fuck a lady. who...
October 2011
1 post
September 2011
1 post
everything about me is sorry, even though it...
August 2011
6 posts
July 2011
8 posts
“if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it....”
– So you want to be a writer - Charles Bukowski (via henrycharlesbukowski)
kiiiiind hate myself right now. but whatever.
3 tags
June 2011
4 posts
I AM NOT A FAILURE, OR A CONTRADICTION. I'M JUST...
May 2011
5 posts
dreams were full of people from her past. she saw an old friend. one she hadn’t seen in ages, and had broken many promises to. he ran from her. would not let her see his face. she grasped for lengths of his long dark hair and it broke off in her hands.
she returned home in her dreamland truck and wept. tried to call a darling who never answers his phone. she wanted to hear his voice. to...
“every christmas she’s haunted by demons who tell her they love her”
she crawled back under covers. with a mind lost in the drifts of marijuana and jagermesiter. her body felt good. drowsy in that way that says im going to cuddle up with a pillow and make sweet passionate love to my blanket tonight. and yet there was a wondering. what fixes it? one last cigarette. theres a 19...
April 2011
5 posts
all she wanted to scream was
fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.
Watch
she decided that being stressed out was stupid. she was tired and exhausted, with her bowl of cereal and her dreams of life. there was thoughts running loose. a large desire to define what emotion she felt but at the same time she would rather just let things go as they go and not decide on things later. she was tired but it was easier to keep going than to calm down.
March 2011
5 posts
you’re a fag. but i find you so endearing.
WHAT A HORRIBLE CURSE.
confessions.
when i drive to a stop light i pretend that all the cars are dueling
when im drawing, i think of ways to be artistic, but i work the best when im just puking emotion out onto the page
when people call me i get really impatient to get off the phone. even with people i love dearly and long to hear their...
she woke up feeling disoriented. she reached for the bottle on the bedside and medicated a sleep. this process repeated several times till the sun was too bright for her to ignore the day. the television blared on about guns, or remote control pawn shops, or something like that. she didn’t really care. she was warm and comfortable. just a tad bit drunk. she made the conscious decision to...
there were alot of things that she loved. people she missed and hands she longed to hold again. things were going uncomfortably well. like life was suddenly good and she didn’t quite have a clue what do to with it.
adulthood. what a rip off.
February 2011
8 posts
there was little for her to do. but sit and worry about the way
the rain was falling. trapped inside with nothing but books and blank canvases. the problem was she was trapped in them, in a sort of forgetful writers block. she lived and breathed inspiration. and yet nothing would come to her when brush hit acrylic.
lists posted to walls, images pinned to cork boards. and yet she looked around...
soy sauce dripped down her finger in a delectable way. there was less to do at that very moment. no rushing raging panic eating her up inside. only simple pieces of sushi, dipped in a brown sauce and fed to herself. she didn’t bother with the chop sticks. this was an indulgence and she was going to feed herself with her bare hands.
she’d come to the realization at that moment of how...
she knew she was on the edge of the downfall because suddenly even the brightest of things seemed dismal. she began to crave the annual re-reading of the catcher and the rye that came along with every approaching valentines day and spring. the time of year when her heart truly began to sink.
a friend asked her curious questions about love. when she realized how drab and painful the answers were...