1. When a boy who leaves goosebumps on every inch of your skin tries to play you his favorite song, don’t let him. He’ll get it stuck in your head and under your fingertips and when he leaves, you won’t be able to listen to it without feeling like you’re choking.
2. Don’t let him touch you all over no matter how much you want to feel him against you. Leave a few spots untouched so that when you’re sleeping alone again, at least your left wrist and an inch of your right hip won’t sting with the remaining burn of his mouth.
3. Don’t let him break your ribs.
4. Don’t watch the sunset with him. He’ll poison it. You won’t be able to look at the sky without swallowing a mouthful of him.
5. Don’t mistake wasps for butterflies. Sometimes when you feel your stomach flutter and your hands start to shake it’s pain, not love.
6. Just because he tells you he loves you doesn’t mean he’s going to stay.
7. It’s okay to delete his number after he kisses the pretty girl he met when he was drunk. It’s okay to leave when he hurts you. You don’t have to keep falling into him.
8. When he tells you that you’re beautiful, try to remember that you were beautiful before him too.
9. Just because he reads and smokes cigarettes and talks about the stars doesn’t mean he’s your soulmate.
10. After you kiss him, remember to wash your mouth out right away so he doesn’t burn into your tongue.
11. He’ll kiss you in the rain and take you to little coffee shops. He’ll brush your hair out of your eyes and kiss your nose. He’ll grab your waist and whisper in your ear but six months later you’ll find yourself drunk texting him that you miss him and he won’t respond.
12. Your heart is going to break a million times. It’s going to feel like the world is falling apart around you. Your lungs will stop working some nights. You find yourself grabbing at your bones trying to hold yourself together. You’re going to feel like you’re dying. It’s going to be okay. You’ll find someone else to kiss you goodnight.
He often played creeps, but he rarely played them creepily. His metier was human loneliness — the terrible uncinematic kind that has very little to do with high-noon heroism and everything to do with everyday empathy — and the necessary curse of human self-knowledge. He held up a mirror to those who could barely stand to look at themselves and invited us not only to take a peek but to see someone we recognized. He played frauds who knew they were frauds, schemers who knew they were schemers, closeted men who could only groan with frustrated love, heavy breathers dignified by impeccable manners, and angels who could withstand the worst that life could hand out because they seemed to know the worst was just the beginning. And what united all his roles was the stoic calm he brought to them, the stately concentration that assured us that no matter whom Philip Seymour Hoffman played, Philip Seymour Hoffman himself was protected.
The inferiority of women is man-made.
American author, activist, and lecturer Helen Keller, June 11, 1916 (via womenaresociety)
Reminder that Helen Keller was a bad ass, and the fact that people only remember her as an “inspirational” child is really annoying.
John Pavlovitz, The Blurred Lines of Real Manhood (Robin Thicke, I’m Looking In Your Direction) [x] (via supernatasha)
When young women are sexually assaulted, we question their pasts and critique their clothing choices, yet rarely ask their attackers to simply be accountable for having no self-control, and no respect for the humanity of the girls they’ve violated.
When middle school girls post half–naked photos of themselves on Instagram, we vilify and ostracize them as cheap and easy, while ignoring the dozens of young men who mindlessly vote their approval each time, who feed the insecurity, and who perpetuate each degrading act with the click of a mouse.
When high school girls get jobs at chain restaurants, which require them to expose their body parts to strangers over trays of nachos, we bemoan their lack of humility and class, yet never question the thousands of men who fill these eateries every day; many with daughters the same age as the ones they ogle.
When women embarrassingly writhe on poles for a few sweaty dollar bills, in dimly lit bars ironically called “Gentlemen’s Clubs”, we heap insults and judgement on them, yet let the many married men who pay both the dancers and the mortgage each month, come and go without blemish or critique.
Sooner or later, we need to stop letting boys be boys, and we need to challenge them to be men.
Sooner or later, we need to pull them out of their perpetual adolescence and into adulthood, and ask them to evenly carry the weight of sexual standards.
Sooner or later, we need to show our young men that the they can actually raise the moral temperature in sexual situations, not reflect them.
"You have no power over me."
Rib tattoo done by Amy Nicholls at Tattooed Heart Studios in Glen Burnie, MD.
why must this be nicer than my owl tattoo
yeah i missed you since the place got wrecked
by the winds of change & the weeds of sex
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it’s something in between, i guess
“I remember crying over you and I don’t mean a couple of tears and I’m blue. I’m talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon.”
— The Avett Brothers, Tear Down the House
emotional abuse is when someone does something to hurt you, and when you express your feelings, that you’re upset, they turn it around to be something you did to hurt them and they force you to apologize for it, and your feelings, like always, are rendered invalid and silenced, forever damaging the ability to trust others with your feelings because they always are used against you.
this is important because so many people don’t know this
i have done this
To what extent are you living your life and to what extent are you performing your life to other people? Pictures on Facebook streams of people looking happy at parties, out in nightclubs… But surely if you’re having that good of a time, you’re not posing for photos? I increasingly get the sense that that’s why people go to places, to photograph something. I don’t understand who people are trying to impress because everyone they’re trying to impress are trying to impress other people as well. So it becomes a strange world of exaggerated service. But maybe I’m just talking out my arse
Charlie Brooker discusses his series Black Mirror, a poignant and unpretentious meditation on the future of technology and social media, which I’m still thinking about, 7 months after watching it for the first time | Wired UK
Check out the series here.
He was surprised to find how little he had documented their relationship compared to some of the other things in his life, like bowls of ramen he’d eaten, or the sun hitting the buildings a certain way. And wasn’t that odd—that his most striking memories were also the ones least captured; ones he’d been so wrapped up in that he’d forgotten to capture in the first place.