‘I Take Issue’ project- wrote my first graphic novelette! Not something I’d normally say, but I’m super proud of this.
(please excuse the weird layout, it’s formatted for printing rather than internet)
I had to reblog this. Because it’s not only beautifully painted, its idea is something that needs to be shared, again and again, so that more people will take their bloody buckets off.
Thank you for making this.
This is Very powerfull
(via cunni1inguistics)
Commercials for women: fix your eyebrows, fix your lips, be thin, don’t wrinkle, God forbid you show any hair not on your head, do the laundry, cook, be a mom, clean the house, your hair must be flawless, no grays
Women: ok
Gillette for men: hey maybe don’t always be a dick
Men: DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO
(via horrorgirlreads)
I’m a simple woman. I find a song I like, I listen to it for three weeks uninterrupted until I find another one.
(via rebrandingplsstandby)
If someone seriously wants to be a part of your life they will seriously make an effort to be in it. no reasons no excuses.
(via dontpraythegayyaway)
not be gay but wearing another girls sweatshirt would be… nice
not to be gay but another girl wearing my sweatshirt would be…… nice
(via gaybyday-gaybynight)
sure, sex is good but have you ever realised the last eight pages of your reading is the bibliography
(via aliteraryescape)
what does turkish delight taste like and is it worth the events that occurred in chronicle of narnia: the lion the witch and the wardrobe
Turkish Delight tastes like soap and ass and basically Edmund was a bitch
(via booksandtea15)
I don’t keep a journal as often as I do, and while tumblr hasn’t been a consistent record of my past, it is helpful. I like being able to look back.
Anyway, two days until surgery. I’m trying to think back to how I felt on 4/23/13, the last surgery. It seems like a lifetime ago, and it pre-dates any form of record keeping (tumblr or otherwise) so I only remember the things that really stood out to me. I wore the shirt Ellen had made for me, a black t-shirt with glittery white fabric paint that read, “keep calm and run on” with a little intricate crown at the top. I wore it as a sort of good luck charm, hoping I’d be back to running soon. I was so young then. I was listening to music on my iPod touch in the waiting room. My anesthesiologist had a thick Eastern European accent. Afterward I went home and ate beans and rice but promptly threw it up (I won’t be eating so much so soon this time around, lesson learned). Caroline brought me pumpkin bread with chocolate chips. And that’s all I really remember from that day. Those little things.
I’m more cynical now. The recovery is supposed to be easier, but I’m also much weaker at this point in my life. I’m so scared that this will ruin my last semester of undergrad. But god, if I allow myself to hope it could be so so good. The past week I’ve been crying at night, thinking about this. Sad tears and happy tears, not sure how I feel anymore to be honest.
I still feel what I felt that Monday morning before you left for work.
It hurts so much to feel like you found the right person at the wrong time. I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I keep listening to Bleachers and the movie ticket from a couple weeks ago is sitting on my desk. I keep accidentally seeing your face when I scroll through pictures on my phone. I miss you. 🍎🍎🍎
