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Damaged-goods

bitchytbh:

having “feelings” is ruining my reputation of being a heartless bitch 

outellect:

on a scale from 1 to sansa stark, how much do you regret your childhood crush

grav3yardgirl:


someone teach me this form of witchcraft

grav3yardgirl:

someone teach me this form of witchcraft

They never tell you in health class
that once you become a woman,
they rip your heart out
and put in a clock instead.

Counting:
sixty seconds a minute,
sixty minutes an hour,
until your worth runs out
with your youth.

They never tell you
what it feels like,
not being able to get on the subway
without some guy
checking out your ass,
even though the government
says you’re too young
to buy alcohol.

They never tell you that out there,
the word “sensitive” is an insult;
out there, shame is something even Chanel no. 5
can’t cover up.

They never tell you that by the time you find a boy
to love, taking off your clothes will be like
taking off bandages,
like peeling off
sunburnt skin.

That some days you’ll feel
like a broken vase
everyone keeps trying
to stick flowers in.

You are not Schrodinger’s cat.
You are not beautiful or ugly
only until someone tells you so.

But when you want to tell the guy on the bus
to go fuck himself
because he won’t leave you alone,
you’ll bite your tongue instead
and swallow your words,
collecting them underneath your ribcage:
a hornet’s nest buzzing below your heart,
reminding it not to feel too much or beat too hard.

"A letter to my 11 year old self" - Kristina Kutateladze (via coffeeshoppoet)

i forget that princes don’t have tails
until they kick at the water i am trying to make their home.

i forget that sailors drink no salt
until their bodies shrivel and wrinkle in the sea.

i forget that that captains must, too, breathe air
until my kisses do nothing to warm their lips.

i forget that i am not meant to care for them
until my sisters congratulate me on their death.

i forget that lovers can drown as well as enemies
until, one by one, they go limp in my arms.

i forget that i cannot cry
until it is all i cannot do to mourn.

i forget i am a monster
because what good would remembering do?

mermaid’s lament" - r. c. e. (via asteropes)

It’s a way of giving the finger, without actually having to give it. 

I desire the things which will destroy me in the end.
Sylvia Plath   (via confusingmisery)
The poison. The poison for Joffrey, the poison specifically chosen to kill Joffrey, Joffrey’s poison. That poison.
Olenna Tyrell at some point, probably. (via hedlunds)

disneyismyescape:

my heart just melted

I have a habit of doing the exact opposite of what’s good for me