Today I learned if you search the name of the guy I’m dating on Tumblr there are a bunch of posts of his pictures, you know since he’s a male model and everything…nbd he’s just a “regular guy” so regular in fact that he hasn’t texted me once today :/ not even my standard good morning/how’d you sleep text. If he wasn’t so attractive I might be able to hold this against him!
You know that perfect point at the beginning of a relationship when you’re just starting to fall for them, and you don’t know them well enough to see all the bad things, just how wonderful they are. I think that about sums up how I feel in this very moment.
Cute boys are a serious problem. I just can’t help falling for them.
“No one is a slut. “Slut” is a made-up word to keep women from having as much fun as men. A person who enjoys sex is just a person and a person who is a virgin is also just a person and everyone should lay off each other’s sex lives. Retire the word “slut” please.”—20 Things We Need To Stop Talking About In 2013 (via finnickvevo)
I went to a dinner party at a friend’s home last weekend, and met her five-year-old daughter for the first time. Little Maya was all curly brown hair, doe-like dark eyes, and adorable in her shiny pink nightgown. I wanted
At some point in my childhood, I decided either I wasn’t pretty or I cared less about being pretty and more about being smart. (Maybe I was precocious) Either way, I was always, and still am, very startled to be told I am cute or pretty by adults or by boys my age. But by not focusing on what I looked like at a young age, I got to explore a myraid of different thoughts and figure out how I felt about many things.
Focus on a girl’s interests, not her looks and teach her that her thoughts and opinions matter, not just what she wears.
“I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you
are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body.
You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she
will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes
that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I’ll go back
to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name.
I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep beside me
You think it’s romantic to fuck the girl who writes poems about you.
You think I’ll understand your sadness because I live inside my own.
But I will show up at your door at 2 am, wild-eyed and sleepless.
and try and find some semblance of peace in your breastbone
and you will not let me in. You will tell me to go home.”—(via snackdemarco)