Feminist LDR Pride Pro-Choice PRIDE PRIDE Cannabis

chapsnats:

if u are about to get stabbed just say “I have too much swagger for the dagger” and they will leave u alone

April 10th, 2014242535reblog

slugzone:

theres a giant burning orb in the sky and it can burn your flesh, it can give you diseases, it can kill you, looking directly at it causes physical pain, and we all think this is okay. we like this orb.  we like to go outside and lie around on our backs when this orb is in the sky. children draw cute pictures of this levitating death orb with a smiley face on it. what is wrong with us

April 05th, 2014224220reblog

sugarbone:

slappin my new sticker series up around the city

April 05th, 201445143reblog
April 05th, 2014869reblog
#homestuck

asidewalksymphony:

ikantenggelem:

Mini Matchstick Gun - The Clothespin Pocket Pistol by The King of Random

SCREAMS HAPPILY

April 05th, 2014191442reblog
#reference

basedgaben:

My dad credits this as his favorite photo of me.

When I was younger, I was very socially anxious. I hated crowds, hated attention, hated being up on stage. In preschool there was this little Halloween show that we put on, and man, I did not want to do that shit, let me tell you. All those parents watching me sing some stupid song? Nah, that ain’t me.

But I was forced to, and I was pissed about it. My dad was in the audience, taking pictures and enjoying the show. In that moment, I swear, my tiny four year old was pure rage and resentment. I felt the word “fuck” years before I knew what it was.

My dad pointed the camera at me, and I turned, and I looked. I gave him the look that summed up all the anger, all the absolute fury that was brewing inside me. He says that he had never before seen such a perfect depiction of total and complete hatred. In his four year old son.

To this day whenever I get pissed, he calls me “Buzz Lightyear”.

April 05th, 201472467reblog
April 05th, 2014127582reblog

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

themetaisawesome:

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

HUMAN

I DON’T KNOW HOW I GOT IN HERE

AND NOW I CANNOT GET OUT

DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS

If you always help the kitten out of the cup they’ll never learn not to get into small cups in the first place

I’VE LEARNED MY LESSON HUMAN

PLEASE HELP

THIS SURFACE IS NOT CLIMBABLE

April 03rd, 2014389175reblog
#c:

madmanthoughttheywerebatman:

I know you might not feel so great at the moment but one day you’re going to look back to this time in your life and think ”that was a really hard time for me, but I got through it and I’m so glad I did”

April 03rd, 201413763reblog
#c:
April 03rd, 2014177332reblog

rick-sanchez:

camiekahle:

THIS IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN

I’VE BEEN TRYING TO FIND THIS FOR SEVEN YEARS

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW HARD IT IS TO ?????

April 03rd, 2014268764reblog
#c:

krmgn:

my two favorite Kamiya Hiroshi characters of 2013.

April 03rd, 20141646reblog
April 03rd, 2014387reblog

lookhowmanetfucksigive:

knowhomo:

LGBTQ* Spoken Word You Should Hear

“The Nutritionist” — Andrea Gibson


Andrea Gibson’s response to suicide, mental health, physical health, and what it means to breathe in each day.

The nutritionist said I should eat root vegetables. 
Said if I could get down thirteen turnips a day 
I would be grounded, rooted. 
Said my head would not keep flying away 
to where the darkness lives. 

The psychic told me my heart carries too much weight. 
Said for twenty dollars she’d tell me what to do. 
I handed her the twenty. She said, “Stop worrying, darling. 
You will find a good man soon.” 

The first psycho therapist told me to spend 
three hours each day sitting in a dark closet 
with my eyes closed and ears plugged. 
I tried it once but couldn’t stop thinking 
about how gay it was to be sitting in the closet. 

The yogi told me to stretch everything but the truth. 
Said to focus on the out breath. Said everyone finds happiness 
when they care more about what they give 
than what they get. 

The pharmacist said, “Lexapro, Lamicatl, Lithium, Xanax.” 

The doctor said an anti-psychotic might help me 
forget what the trauma said. 

The trauma said, “Don’t write this poem. 
Nobody wants to hear you cry 
about the grief inside your bones.” 

But my bones said, “Tyler Clementi dove
into the Hudson River convinced 
he was entirely alone.” 

My bones said, “Write the poem.” 

The lamplight. Considering the river bed. 
To the chandelier of your fate hanging by a thread.
To everyday you could not get out of bed.
To the bulls eye of your wrist
To anyone who has ever wanted to die.

I have been told, sometimes, the most healing thing to do-
Is remind ourselves over and over and over:
“Other people feel this too.”

The tomorrow that is coming, gone
And it has not gotten better
When you are half finished writing that letter 
to your mother that says “I swear to God I tried
But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back”
There is no bruise like the bruise of loneliness kicks into the spine

So let me tell you I know there are days 
it looks like the whole world is dancing in the streets 
when you break down like the doors of the looted buildings

You are not alone 
and wondering who will be convicted of the crime 
of insisting you keep loading your grief into the chamber of your shame

You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy
I have never met a heavy heart 
that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside

Some people will never understand 
the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside
Some days I know my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house

But my hands are always holding tight to the ripchord of believing
A life can be rich like the soil
Can make food of decay
Can turn wound into highway
Pick me up in a truck with that bumper sticker that says 
“It is no measure of good health to be well adjusted to a sick society.”

I have never trusted anyone 
with the pulled back bow of my spine 
the way I trusted ones who come undone at the throat
Screaming for their pulses to find the fight to pound

Four nights before Tyler Clementi jumped from the George Washington Bridge 
I was sitting in a hotel room in my own town
Calculating exactly what I had to swallow 
to keep a bottle of sleeping pills down

What I know about living is the pain is never just ours
Every time I hurt I know the wound is an echo
So I keep a listening to the moment the grief becomes a window
When I can see what I couldn’t see before,
through the glass of my most battered dream

I watched a dandelion lose its mind in the wind
and when it did, it scattered a thousand seeds.

So the next time I tell you how easily I come out of my skin, 
don’t try to put me back in,
just say “Here we are together at the window aching for it to all get better
but knowing as bad as it hurts our hearts, made of only just skin, 
knowing there is a chance the worst day might still be coming —
let me say right now for the record, I’m still gonna be here
asking this world to dance, even if it keeps stepping on my holy feet
you — you stay here with me, okay?
You stay here with me.
Raising your bright against the bitter dark
Your bright longing
Your brilliant fists of loss”

Friends, if the only thing we have to gain in staying is each other,

my God that’s plenty
my God that’s enough
my God that is so so much for the light to give

each of us at each other’s backs whispering over and over and over

“Live”

“Live”

“Live”


(thank you Emm in Sem for supplying the lyrics)

This is my favourite. I love her. 

April 03rd, 20143196reblog
April 03rd, 201453493reblog