Just me.
In bits and pieces.
Manifested in a compilation of absurdity.


“My life - my personality, my habits, even my speech - is a combination of the books I choose to read, the people I choose to listen to, and the thoughts I choose to tolerate in my mind…” - Andy Andrews
Reblogged from baby--boomerang  14,750 notes

I scrounge for change. I bring my own travel mug
to school because it’s cheaper that way. I start books

but do not finish them. I think about love obsessively.
Everything I do reminds me of my grandfather.

My grandmother visits and talks to me about God,
wants me to believe, but I do not have that kind of faith.

I only believe in the easy things, like red lipstick
and coffee before noon and writing essays in pen.

I make my mind up about boys and then I unmake it,
compare us to continental drift, two ships passing.

I hit the snooze button too often. Write disposable
poems on napkins and old homework, try to discipline

myself when it comes to removing my makeup
before bed. I am trying to understand men better,

cut them some slack, write about them less. I dream
about oceans and mountains and wolves. I do not

always love myself. I do not always forgive myself.
I write apology letters and do not send them. Usually,

I do not mean it when I tell someone “goodbye.”

By Kristina Haynes, “Self-Portrait at Twenty-One” (via fleurishes)

UM first of all I dont even see color Im blind?????? second of all wOW reverse racism is clearly alive and well take notes children this is the new america save yourselves

UM first of all I don’t even think you’re blind because you have a driver’s license and also if you were blind how would you read these tumblr posts?????? second of all wOW accusing you of being racist is not the same as reverse racism so you need to check your (white) privilege 

Reblogged from minormayors  117,556 notes

If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them. By

anonymous reader on The Dish

One of the more helpful and insightful things I’ve seen about depression/suicide in the last couple of days.

(via mysweetetc)