one curly fry in a box full of regulars

When men tell me to change my hair color.

-Do you pay my bills/taxes?
-Do you make me cum?
-Are you making stars shoot out of my pussy?

Oh no, you’re not?

My hair is green, bitch.

Katana Fatale (via katanafatale)

lmnpnch:

Vanity Fair’s 2008 ‘Hitchcock Hollywood Portfolio’

katanafatale:

ozoranazo:

My best friend and me <3 


Life goal

katanafatale:

ozoranazo:

My best friend and me <3 

Life goal

Exactly

Exactly

singingrainorshine:

My dad recently told me, “There are many people who will put you down. Don’t be one of them.”

And that sticks with me every single day.

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.

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)

Real talk

Life is so hard when your best friend is a 9.5/10 and you’re a strong 4 with the right filter and lighting

escapekit:

The Last Billboard

A 36-foot-long billboard located at the corner of Highland and Baum in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Every month, a different individual is invited to take over the billboard to broadcast personalized messages, which are spelt out using wooden letters that are changed by hand. 

you can follow its tumblr here. 

Give me the lover who yanks open the door
of his house and presses me to the wall
in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until I’m drenched
and shaking, whose kisses arrive by the boatload
and begin their delicious diaspora
through the cities and small towns of my body.

To hell with the saints, with the martyrs
of my childhood meant to instruct me
in the power of endurance and faith,
to hell with the next world and its pallid angels
swooning and sighing like Victorian girls.

I want this world. I want to walk into
the ocean and feel it trying to drag me along
like I’m nothing but a broken bit of scratched glass,
and I want to resist it.

Kim Addonizio, For Desire (via hellanne)
You were not made for the shame in his eyes when he can’t explain to his friends why he loves you.
Azra Tabassum (via agresnep)