weheartit.com gillyfacee
dimensao7 pitchblackglow
unacclimated pitchblackglow

itattoobabes snatchfitzpleasure
horrorstripper pitchblackglow
kseniablog imtheclassnerd
And if we won’t burn together,
I’ll burn alone. Bret Easton Ellis (via splitterherzen)
1496 notes - reblog
thatlitsite splitterherzen

can you please answer my travel survey?  surveymonkey.com/s/6WKJNC2    its 4 questions, it will take a second
cordiali-tea imtheclassnerd


i hope manners is the next cool trend

277720 notes - reblog
baracknobama killing-sunshine

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else. -Richard Siken

If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
you can let them look at you. But do not mistake eyes for hands.

Or windows.
Or mirrors.

Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may not have ever seen one before.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
you can let them touch you.

Sometimes it is not you they are reaching for.
Sometimes it is a bottle. A door. A sandwich. A Pulitzer. Another woman.

But their hands found you first. Do not mistake yourself for a guardian.
Or a muse. Or a promise. Or a victim. Or a snack.

You are a woman. Skin and bones. Veins and nerves. Hair and sweat.
You are not made of metaphors. Not apologies. Not excuses.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,
you can let them hold you.

All day they practice keeping their bodies upright—
even after all this evolving, it still feels unnatural, still strains the muscles,

holds firm the arms and spine. Only some men will want to learn
what it feels like to curl themselves into a question mark around you,

admit they do not have the answers
they thought they would have by now;

some men will want to hold you like The Answer.
You are not The Answer.

You are not the problem. You are not the poem
or the punchline or the riddle or the joke.

Woman. If you grow up the type men want to love,
You can let them love you.

Being loved is not the same thing as loving.
When you fall in love, it is discovering the ocean

after years of puddle jumping. It is realizing you have hands.
It is reaching for the tightrope when the crowds have all gone home.

Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of woman
men will hurt. If he leaves you with a car alarm heart, you learn to sing along.

It is hard to stop loving the ocean. Even after it has left you gasping, salty.
Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call

mistakes when you tuck them in at night. And know this:
Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.

Let the statues crumble.
You have always been the place.

You are a woman who can build it yourself.
You were born to build.

Sarah Kay, The Type (via splitterherzen)
295 notes - reblog
There it goes again. That heavy feeling in your chest when you don’t feel any desire to speak or move. All you want to do is close your eyes and sleep, because the process of being broken is incredibly exhausting. You attempt your best to make your days fulfilling, but no matter how hard you try you can’t seem to connect to anyone or anything. Unknown (via splitterherzen)
6590 notes - reblog
lovequotebook splitterherzen
attimiericordi killing-sunshine
1124 notes - reblog
dailytheodorejames ayedrdre
pocula pitchblackglow
prettysickly 50centimeters