Flowers Tumblr Themes

I should be sleeping.

blissfully-different:

winchesterlicious:

where the fuck are the boxer briefs for ladies 

just make underwear that are just like boxer briefs but without the bulgy package area in front for fuck’s sake

you don’t need to make them shiny or lacy just make them comfy and streamlined without awkward seams and maybe in some basic colours that aren’t white or that awful “flesh tone” colour 

I would wear the shit out of these.

thesorrovv:

ma’am im sorry but that baby was due today, i don’t care if its not done just turn in what you have

calodaemon:

"The Sandman" by Salvador Dali.

calodaemon:

"The Sandman" by Salvador Dali.

polkanots:

trends women should avoid 2014: men’s opinions 

tardisy-wardisy:

wubatomicparticle:

tumblr is literally the result of putting teenagers together without any adult supervision whatsoever

well it was either this or lord of the flies

plathae:

hippiesispunkz:

craziest ad ive seen in a while

omfg 

plathae:

hippiesispunkz:

craziest ad ive seen in a while

omfg 

disgracethedamagedanddamned:

Guy: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Me: No, but I did scrape my knees when I crawled up from hell.

Anonymous said: I am strongly contemplating suicide. I'll just stay home tomorrow and do it. I've tied up the noose and everything already.

officialnightfury:

ninjakato:

stardroid:

Anon. I’m going to share something personal with you today. And with all of tumblr, too.

Do you see this photo?

image

This is one of the few photos I have left of my mother and I. And the only one that’s digital, too.

I was about four years old in that photo. Shortly after that photo was taken, I was placed into foster care because of my mother’s mental conditions and her inability to care for me. Which was fine, it was the right thing to do.

She was taken overseas to a very good mental health clinic in Paris, which is where we came from. 

My mother had a lot of problems. Among them were her multiple personality disorder and her bipolar. She stayed in hospital for most of my life, and battled depression and her suicidal tendencies. She went through a lot, including electro-shock therapy. Nothing seemed to help. She was a very lost and very hurt woman.

And one day, on Mother’s Day of 2008, my foster parents received a phone call at about 1am from the mental hospital my mother was staying in.

My mother had hung herself in the shower of her bathroom. Her mental illnesses, her lack of access to me and the things she’d suffered through her life had snapped her. And she was gone.

I was thirteen years old. Nobody told me until the sun had risen. I left my room, ready for school. And then I was sat down, and I was told.

And I was numb.

I felt nothing, for months. Months, and months, and months.

I was a very good student at school. I got distinctions, and straight A’s. And all of that kind of just… stopped. 

The full extent of my loss didn’t hit me until years later, when I was sixteen.

And it hasn’t stopped hurting since.

I miss my mother every day. I barely got to know her, but I knew she loved me. And I ache every time I see someone walk by with their parents, or a little girl with her mother. It’s even cost me several relationships. It hurts. I can’t take it. Can’t do it.

You know the kind of woman my mother was? Kind. Smart. Thoughtful. She was a painter, and a lover of music. We lived in Australia when I was growing up, but she always loved France. In fact, it was her name. I recall my foster mother’s comment when she met her for the first time when she came back to Australia to visit me. She said how talking to my mother was like talking to your best friend. One you hadn’t seen in years. The joy in her voice, her smile.

I can’t even remember what she sounds like anymore.

Suicide? I’ve wanted to do it. Several times. It’s been tempting. Pressure builds inside your chest, and you can’t cry anymore. You feel nothing and it’s clearly just logical to end it because there’s no point living in a void anymore.

You feel like there’s no one else out there for you. You’re alone, and nobody understands.

Anon, let me tell you.

I understand. I’ve seen both sides of this coin. Nobody wins.

I know what it’s like to want to not exist. I spend half my days pretending to be mechanical because being human and alive is just too much of  a burden sometimes. But I also know what it feels like to be left behind.

It’s searing.

After the loss of my mother, I lost three more people to suicide. One was my uncle, and two others were good friends. One of them was one of my best friend.

I don’t know who you are, Anon. But I’d like to.

I’d like to know who you are so I can stop you from feeling this way. You’re not alone. And if you are? I’ll be the first to open my arms to you.

Death is not an answer, nor by any means a door to something greater.

Death is for those who have finished in this life. We are not meant to go before our time, and especially not alone.

I’m nineteen now. If my mother were still alive, she’d be thirty-eight.

It’s too young.

You’re too young.

To you, anon, and to everyone else out there who’s ever felt this way.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Come to me, if you have to.

Go to someone. Anyone. Please.

You’re so much more than a statistic.

You’re worth so much more than tears.

You mean so much more than every person who has ever stamped you into the ground. Called you names. Failed to accept you because you don’t fit into their criteria of human. Spurned you, or ignored you. 

I know this pain. And I know what happens when that pain consumes you.

Please. Don’t go.

I don’t know you. But your life means something. 

I promise it means something.

I am legitimately crying… 

Please, Anon. LISTEN TO THIS. 
SERIOUSLY. 

Listen. 

Everyone who’s contemplating suicide listen to this.

vitaminsobsession:

fuckyeah-nerdery:

worthyourweightinfanfiction:

buttships-were-meant-2spooky:


this is the best thing in the entire world

she should greet jane as if nothing happened and see how jane reacts

she should avoid school the next day. And the next. Every night, she should put on the exact outfit she had on that day, hose herself down until she’s completely drenched and stand in Jane’s yard. When Jane is home alone, she should approach the window, staring at her. Knock on it if you don’t have her attention. 
That’ll get her back for killing you and trying to hide the evidence.

Ease up there, Satan.

Ease up? SHE TRIED TO KILL HER

vitaminsobsession:

fuckyeah-nerdery:

worthyourweightinfanfiction:

buttships-were-meant-2spooky:

this is the best thing in the entire world

she should greet jane as if nothing happened and see how jane reacts

she should avoid school the next day. And the next. Every night, she should put on the exact outfit she had on that day, hose herself down until she’s completely drenched and stand in Jane’s yard. When Jane is home alone, she should approach the window, staring at her. Knock on it if you don’t have her attention. 

That’ll get her back for killing you and trying to hide the evidence.

Ease up there, Satan.

Ease up? SHE TRIED TO KILL HER