not broken, just bent.

(via hairspr4y)

(Source: hazelhirao, via parismontag)

It’s okay that you chose her. We always choose the wrong people for ourselves. After all I chose you.

(via mmaaddisonn)

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via simplee-things)

But…as bad as it was, I learned something about myself. That I could go through something like that and survive.

Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler’s Wife (via feellng)

(via feellng)

Don’t you think it’s better to be extremely happy for a short while, even if you lose it, than to be just okay for your whole life?

Unknown  (via spinals)

(Source: crimson-jpg, via typicalgirl455)

Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I have already heard the word rubbed raw across the flesh of so many girls before me. Thrown at them like rocks that beat the skin of those we do not understand. “You are beautiful,” we yell with such contempt. “God dammit, why won’t you just believe me, you’re beautiful!” It is not a compliment. It is a victory march of your own self sacrifice. “You’re beautiful,” we say through gritted teeth. “You’re beautiful,” we spit out through tears, looking at a reflection we hate. “You’re beautiful,” we say, holding a body that has never felt the arms of another. “You’re beautiful.” Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. A word like that floats on the surface, give me something with depth. Tell me I’m intelligent. Tell me I’m courageous. Tell me that when I laugh the whole world smiles. Tell me that my voice is sweeter than strawberries. Remind me that my hands have helped flowers grow, painted the ocean, and captured the sky in my phone. Assure me that with a mind like mine, I can change the world. Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I don’t really care if it’s true. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that beauty goes through and through. Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I’ve felt the word splatter against me enough for a lifetime. I am better than the “beautiful” that slips from your lips. I am the ocean, 36,000 feet deep. There are parts of me you have never seen. I am outer space, infinite in your search. I am not simply “beautiful.” I’m a fucking masterpiece.

thisisnotmyfairytaleendingg:

Women hiding in front of men disguised as their beards and pants

(Source: Laughing Squid, via pheebum)

Drinkupbbydolll (via drinkupbbydolll)

(via stephf6)

I miss how things used to be. But I don’t miss who you are now. I wouldn’t want you now because I know you’ve been touched by another woman. It wouldn’t be the same. It’ll never be the same.
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