story time:

I was 11 and I hated when my parents drank. I don’t know why. I hated it dearly, so one time they did & they went to get pizza and beers with my cousins, I was stuck in a hotel waiting for them to come back & when they did they were even shittier then they were before they left, I started hysterically crying because I was convinced they went to a strip club for some ungodly reason even though they had fucking 8 boxes of pizza with them & there weren’t any strip clubs around & I don’t know why that would even bother me. I was a weird fucking kid.

Tattoo ideas.

It’s hard to explain but I will try my best.
Left arm: white & light pink meditating Buddha surrounded by flowers such as; cherry blossoms, lotus flowers, snapdragons, roses, petunias, daisies, irises, baby’s breath etc.
The flowers would travel onto my collar bone around & under my breast & climb over my ribs & fade to my back.
Underneath left arm: “you’d break your neck to keep your chin up”
Trailing from neck to shoulder on left side: “not all who wander are lost; in elvish. Flowers would underneath from half sleeve.
Right side of breast: “It is better to be hated for who you are,
than loved for who you’re not”
Right foot: La Dispute flower.
Left foot: cherries
Left ankle: Irish claddagh anklet.
Back of neck: diamond
Right thigh: blue monarch butterfly with ripped wings over scars.
Right pinky finger: “trust no one”

Old fashion sailor tattoo mermaid on left thigh
“Pepsi cola” on my waist line.

Piercings I want:
Chest & Back of the neck (surface skin anchors)


Sweater Weather (Acoustic) | The Neighbourhood

Reblogging twice in a row because this is fucking beautiful I don’t care


Frank Ocean | Scared Of Beautiful

I remember a man that pointed out my flaws to me,
Slapped me in my face with back handed compliments,
Stole my time & my heart just because.
I fucking hate that man.
I hate him so much.
He made me look at myself,
He made me see ugly things.
He made me realize that my choices where not really mine.
I was a puppet for others
& him.
He was a fucked up man.
He is probably still just as fucked up.
To bad I don’t think about him like I use too.
I’m too busy thinking about the man that make me love myself.
The one that calls me Perfect.
He is a real fucking man,
All those before him were cowards.


Words | Skylar Grey

The fact that you’re struggling doesn’t make you a burden. It doesn’t make you unloveable or undesirable or undeserving of care. It doesn’t make you too much or too sensitive or too needy. It makes you human. Everyone struggles. Everyone has a difficult time coping, and at times, we all fall apart. During these times, we aren’t always easy to be around — and that’s okay. No one is easy to be around one hundred percent of the time. Yes, you may sometimes be unpleasant or difficult. And yes, you may sometimes do or say things that make the people around you feel helpless or sad. But those things aren’t all of who you are and they certainly don’t discount your worth as a human being. The truth is that you can be struggling and still be loved. You can be difficult and still be cared for. You can be less than perfect, and still be deserving of compassion and kindness.
Daniell Koepke  (via undeadlife)