A blog about me being myself. Expressing my thoughts and feelings, and letting you see what I am like as well.
 
 
 

(Source: vinebox)

 
 

chrisynova:

a moment of silence for all those cool ideas you had when you were falling asleep that you totally thought you’d remember but tragically didn’t in the morning.

 
 

frantzfandom:

covenesque:

ruinedchildhood:

Bikini Bottom just got real..

IS THERE MORE?!

WHY

 
 
There’s a paradox in thinking that you’re better than other girls, when your whole reason for feeling that way is because you think your gender is so inherently inferior that you want to dis-identify with being a girl altogether.

More Than Words: Tomboys R Us

THIS whenever some girl brags about being “one of the boys” or says something like “I’m not like other girls, I LOVE [stereotypically masculine thing].” (via giraffodill)

 
 
 
 
  • Black Man: (In a relationship with a Non-Black woman) Black bitches are too jealous of us cause nobody wants them. Always side-eyeing me and my girlfriend. They needa stop hating
  • Black Woman: (In a relationship with a Non-Black man)
  • Black Man: She probably hates herself and only wants mixed babies why don't Black women support the Black man anymore whatever I bet I could still get her though her man ain't shit
 
 

darkmoonperfume:

bcauseican:

christel-thoughts:

peachringsandshinythings:

jas0nwaterfalls:

a discussion we had in WLC concerning women.

What got me was the fact that the two black girls couldn’t fathom being chosen first.

:/

"It seems like preferences are okay as long as it’s not Black women. But then it’s also not okay for Black women to have preferences other than Black men."

Wow

But why is anyone surprised though? Everyday you get the same message that a black woman is not beautiful, is not special, is not anything. The whole world shits on black women and we at the bottom of the rung when it comes to everything and that includes love and appreciation.

 
 

curvellas:

don’t judge people for taking selfies or posting them a lot some of us like how we look for the first time in our whole lives and that’s a big fucking deal.

 
 

Look around your college classroom, spot the virgins.

See, this seems like a game until you skip over the girl with a short skirt and hair in front of her eyes because you heard last summer that she slept with like nineteen guys. You can’t see her hands, but they’re under the table, pulling a rosary through her fingers as she tries to wash the sin off her. She’s only ever kissed three people in her whole life and they’re all girls. She turned down the wrong guy and he told everyone she’s “a whore.” The label “slut” stuck to the bottom of her shoe and swallowed her up.

But that quiet girl who is always reading probably never touched someone else’s penis, you figure, because you don’t know that she goes home and strips down and pulls on tight black leather, you don’t know she’s got a set of whips that could make any set of knees quiver, you don’t know because she’s proud of what she does but she’s not stupid enough to let anyone know about it. She’s sexy, just not here, not where people judge.

See, the truth is: you have no idea who has lost their virginity, because it doesn’t change you. It doesn’t give you some kind of glow or superpower or stamp on your forehead. You know the feeling of waking up on your birthday and thinking “I don’t feel any older whatsoever”? That’s what maybe they’re all so afraid of you finding out: sex doesn’t change you. Sex doesn’t make you an animal, sex doesn’t suddenly make your relationship a million times more stable or intimate or romantic - it can’t fix what’s broken, although it can make the pain go away for a bit. Sex doesn’t really occur with eighty tea lights and a thick white rug. Sex is ugly and loud and frequently awkward, sex is excellent and breathtaking and when you wake up the next morning, you’re the exact same person. There’s not some magical connection with the person in bed beside you. Believe it or not, pregnancy isn’t some kind of punishment - but practice safe sex, get tested, don’t spread your germs around. They want to tell you, “Sex can ruin you” and I’ve heard that a lot as a little girl, that some boy would join me under my sheets and then dump me four days after, used, unhappy.

But I figured out that I’m not a fucking toy. Letting someone have sex with me is not letting them “use” me, because I’m not an object. My father said the issue lay in the fact “Men are insecure and need to know that they’re the best you ever had,” but I think that’s a steaming crock of absolute-wrong and if I didn’t tell the people I’m with how many others I’d slept beside, there would be literally no way for them to know my number, because I don’t rust, I don’t wear out, I don’t get bruised. I’m not a wilting fruit, I don’t go rotten.

But here’s the thing: some people connect sex and emotion. I don’t personally because I am probably secretly an ice storm in disguise, but I still respect my partner’s desires. If they’re the type to want love and sex to coincide, I let them. I don’t make fun, I don’t pull one-night-stands or friends-with-benefits, because it’s not their “reputation” I’m afraid for: it’s their heart I’m defending.

Here’s the thing: Instead of worrying about people’s “purity” and how it defines them as a person, worry instead about how you can protect other people’s emotions.

Because here’s the thing: look around your room and spot the virgins. Look harder. You can’t tell. Sex doesn’t alter people, it doesn’t make them act in a certain way nor dress in a certain manner. Sex and personality have nothing to do with each other. There’s a reason that virginity doesn’t show on someone’s face: because having sex doesn’t cause you to change.

"I lost my virginity to a boy I didn’t even love…" /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
 
 

afro-rabbit:

Yuh.