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Simply Complicated
Hi I'm super dumb and sad, but I love all of you and I want you to know that. Feel free to ask me anything. You're all super duper lovely little cuties.
Sometimes I post NSFW and dd/lg stuff, but this is mostly just a random jumble of feelings and random stuff. If you need me to tag triggers or anything, just let me know cuz I will tag it, I promise. <3
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"But no matter how hard I try, I am not the sea. I am a sunken ship that has drowned in everyone who touched me."
— Lora Mathis  (via katelouisepowell)
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"…in the end, altruistic love felt like cutting myself open to make somebody else feel whole and bleeding out everything I loved about myself."
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The worst thing about love is not the godawful moments of fear or the sinking of happiness in their eyes when you fight, but the wonderful, beautiful moments are what hurt the most in the very end. But what is the very end? Is it something that only comes when you’re dead? The only thing that is guaranteed is that you were born, and you will die. You can choose what you make of your time on this earth, but nothing is guaranteed.

The worst thing about love is that it blinds you from seeing the truth. you can see past infatuation, but when it’s love, you’re fucked. Sometimes the only honesty you get is the look on their face because it will contradict their words. Look into their eyes and try to decode whatever the hell is going on in their crazy little mind without explanation. You could get played, tricked, manipulated but you will never know. You are trapped. And being trapped in love is like quicksand just sitting there, waiting to suck you in.

The worst thing about love is that it happens without warning, What do you call it when your life falls apart right in front of you and you let it? When you don’t even realize that what is good now will kill you when it’s done? I’ll never understand how easy friendship turns into love but how difficult it is to go back. I’ll never understand how something so powerful and brilliant kills you, just like a drug. I was more addicted to you than anything I could get stuck on and now that you’re gone, I have to stop thinking about what the fuck made you so special.

— The worst thing about love (via not-frail)
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You want the things
that make me unique
but not what caused them
Not my stories
not my bad habits
not my losses

But you cannot truly
taste me
if you only ask
for a piece


It Takes Two Sides To Make A Whole

Lora Mathis

(via phoenixxlily)
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I have not felt pretty in months.
I make it a point now to read so much
that I don’t have any extra time to look in the mirror.
I know that I’m not ugly, but there have been people
who put the idea in my head that I’m not worthy
of being loved. There is an idea in my head
that if I’m not attractive enough, nobody
will pay attention to me. At my new school,
so far this is true.

But here’s a list of future priorities.
You will find that “being pretty” is not even on the list.

I hope I don’t ever stop writing, even when everybody
stops reading my writing. I hope I never stop being honest.
I hope that I never stop being raw. I hope I never stop
being kind even when people forget to appreciate me.
I hope I never change colors to be more appealing.
I hope I never stop valuing my mind more than my looks.
I hope I never change my bittersweet taste just so I can
be more palatable. I hope I never change for anybody.
I hope that I’m a solid not a liquid. A solid defines itself.
A liquid waits to be defined. I hope that I never worry
about my weight again. I hope my words bear enough weight
to break all the molds in the world to remind people that
you don’t need to let anybody define your existence in words.

If pretty is a place, then you don’t need a map.
It’s the kind of place you find by instinct.
Your hands are compasses always pointing to self-acceptance.
Self esteem is not a well in the middle of a desert,
and teenage boys don’t have the coordinates tattooed on
their palms, but they might tell you they do, when they tell you
things like,”She’d be so much prettier if she grew out her hair.”

You walk around with your eyes closed asking
everyone how to get to “pretty”,
when you’re already there.


3:48 p.m. (This is a note to myself)

This is response to Lora’s poem.

(via angryasianfeminist)
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"I do all the things you used to hate. I dye my hair colors that make the church ladies stare. I go to bed without dinner and subside entirely on air. I make tea and pour cream in after. I give up reading. I give up The Beatles. I never eat another plate of scrambled eggs.

I shape myself…

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just because i hate me doesnt mean you can

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innocent looking girls that are secretly kinky as fuck are girls worth living for

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