I'm not a self help book; I'm just a fucked up kid

tattoos and a switchblade attitude, snakebite heart with a bubblegum smile.




senior in college.
a heart so big it hurts like hell.
i have no idea who i am, but i know what i love.
the documentation of monumental moments and insignificant moments.
noted, filed, dusty in a cabinet.

I am the most in love lady.

I’ve got good feelings about a lot of things. This much optimism is scary.

September will be huge. Get free makeup, make money - all easy & online. Talk to me about how you can make THIS your job. :)

Facebook.com/MakeupMeaghan 💋

I would just like one Sunday where the most exhausted person in the house is not the one that cleans and cooks.

Also, if you support horse racing, I probably fucking hate you. How about I put a metal bit in your mouth and then force you to physically over exert yourself for someone else’s viewing pleasure and financial gain? Animals are better than people, yet we continue to treat them like they’re not.

I’m whining.

Vacation isn’t happening, which I kind of knew. But it still sucks. I don’t even care if Doug Hopkins told me to have no expectations.

Work is dead. Already. Or still. Depends on how you look at it and my sentence fragments.

Today is just weird. There’s no real reason I should be in such an odd mood, but I think I’m just disappointed the “one big, good thing” I needed to happen isn’t. But I don’t really need that.

I don’t have much to say. Life is strange and good and confusing, all at once. Mostly, I think too much and that’s okay.

I just want to sit around in the sunshine, drink sangria, talk about things that aren’t important at all and things that mean everything, and truly relax.

I’m away from home for one night and I just want to be back. I don’t like sleeping without Frank.

disheartens:

I hope you fall in love with a man with good music taste and a jawline stronger than your wifi connection

On point. Add a beard and a love for reading and that’s what my dreams are made of.

And my boyfriend. I win.

(via keptonspinning)

Human beings do not grow in perfect symmetry. They oscillate, expand, contract, back track, arrest themselves, retrogress, mobilize, atrophy in part, proceed erratically according to experience and traumas. Some aspects of the personality mature, others do not. Some live in the past, some in the present. Some people are futuristic characters, some are cubistic, some are hard-edged, some geometric, some abstract, some impressionistic, some surrealistic! Some of their insights remain relative, and we can no longer think of a character as good or bad, but a combination of characteristics which vary according to relationship and the point in time. We know now that we are composites in reality, collages of our fathers and mothers, of what we read, of television influences and films, of friends and associates, and we know we often play roles quite removed from our genuine selves.

Anaïs Nin, from The Novel of the Future (via a-femmefatalist)

(Source: meganmcisaac, via contendaz)