I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
S.E. Hinton (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
I promise to love you:

at 6am when you’re waking to go to work, to school, or whatever road life takes you on, and when you didn’t sleep well, your hair is a mess, and your eyes are sleepy.

at 8am when we say goodbye for the day and you’re rushing out the door with a cup of tea and your car keys in the other hand.

at 5pm when you’re exhausted from the day and people have worn you out and you feel like crying, and falling asleep and escaping from everything. I will kiss your forehead, and wrap myself in your arms.

at 10pm when you’re heading to bed, even though you won’t sleep for hours. Especially when we become a human knot wrapped up in sheets and kisses.

at 3am when loneliness and sadness do not destroy you, but consume you and when you weep without an explanation, I’ll kiss your lips softly and tell you you’re the absolute best and that things will be better soon

I will love you when you grow old, and I will love you after that. I will love you if I’m no longer here. I will love you, I will love you, and I will love you.

I Promise To Love You Forever (via iamcharliesangel)

(Source: -poetic, via broken-from-memories)


donothope:

anxietyandboys:

♡ b&w sad blog, i follow back similar and i’m here to give you advice. ♡

xx
Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions
 Susan CainQuiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking (via unmaiden)

(Source: nyctaeus, via cardioconfidence)


It’s the curse of the teenage girl, isn’t it? Ridiculed at every corner. God forbid a teenage girl could have a passion for anything. God forbid a teenage girl could know what she wants.
It’s a fucking curse. You fall in love, it’s bullshit. You’re talented, it’s bullshit. You love something, bullshit. You care about something, bullshit. You destroy something bullshit. Something kills you, bullshit!
We’re all so trivial. Nothing we say has any weight, any precedence. Because we don’t know shit.
What do we like? Who cares. What do we love? Who fucking cares. We hate ourselves and we’re called dramatic and self-obsessed. We love ourselves and we’re called dramatic and self-obsessed. Since when was loving yourself a character flaw? Fuck. I think it’s astounding. Why wouldn’t you want to raise a generation of strong, proud girls? I know why, because you’re fucking scared, and you don’t even realise it. Somewhere, in the back of your head, past all the patriarchal bullshit, you know what we’re capable of. And don’t look at me like that, I know what the patriarchy is, and that’s exactly my fucking point. You underestimate us, you reduce us down to silly little girls.
In the back of your head, you’re scared for us to have voices, you don’t want us to have power. Because then, then we’ll speak up about the shit you put us through. And you know what? If you don’t educate us, if you refuse to educate us, we’ll educate ourselves.
I am so, so sick of this biased crazy bitch-teenager idea. Being passionate doesn’t make us crazy. And even if we are crazy, so fucking what? It’s you who made us like this.
You, who raised your daughter to keep her voice down. You, who taught her it’s better to be meek. You, who told her she just drunk too much, helped her throw out her ripped underwear, and never thought to ask questions. You, who told her sex was an obligation. And you, for telling her it’s a bargaining tool. Her desires aren’t natural. Don’t act, don’t speak. Repress, repress, repress. Repent, repent, repent. Be ashamed. Shut your mouth.
You shut it for her though.
Every lesson, every time you ignored her need, you plucked out another vocal chord. And you kept going and you kept teaching until her throat was empty, and you stole her words and threw her voice box down a fucking well so no one would ever hear her speak again. And you think we’re the crazy ones? You’re draining the life from you daughter so you can stick it in a glass vial and give it to your son in law.
You want us to be meek? You want us to be quiet. We’re fucking monsters. You made us, you’ve silenced us, and now we’re going to scream and scream until you notice.

- The curse of the teenage girl - J.M

(script extract)

(Source: lushpuppy, via cardioconfidence)