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.

Things have been rough for the last week. We’ve been arguing and fighting. It all came to an ugly head last night, including me seeing a side of him that he works hard to not be. I love every inch of that man, inside and out. Through all of it, the good and bad and in between, I can’t wait to marry him.

If all I’m trying to do is explain why I feel hurt, don’t make a million excuses and talk to me like I did something wrong.

Keeping my phone off forever tomorrow. Sorry Brit.

Being 45 minutes early to appointments is boring. Not having a book in my car is even more boring.

Being 45 minutes early to appointments is boring. Not having a book in my car is even more boring.

Reposted from my girl who caused a night full of smiles. @thegirl_alex #friendsforgenerations  (at The Nuddy Bar and Grill)

Reposted from my girl who caused a night full of smiles. @thegirl_alex #friendsforgenerations (at The Nuddy Bar and Grill)

When faced with two choices, simply toss a coin. It works not only because it settles the question for you, but because in that brief moment when the coin is in the air, you suddenly know what you are hoping for.

—Unknown  (via tuileries)

(Source: thelovewhisperer, via a-tree-in-the-wind)

He’s alright. Or something.  #wherethesunshineslows #favoriteperson

He’s alright. Or something. #wherethesunshineslows #favoriteperson


the first time someone tells you these words I hope you stick out your hand and catch the letters in the air I hope you crunch them in your fist I hope you shove them back into the mouth they flew out of I hope and pray you are not eight years old and hanging off of a shopping cart and groaning about how bored you are, I hope you were not young like I was the first time I read a magazine on a shelf underneath the candy I hope you weren’t young because I still thought everything I read had to be true - but better yet, I hope these words never find you.

They tell you to be strong but it’s the little things like this that sit on our hips and tangle in our hair and feel like bees when the night gets dark. It’s the little things we could never ever shake off because the minute we tried, we discovered there were more waiting for us.


smile more often. I hope the first time someone calls you fat, you shimmy your shoulders and wink and feel like a goddess and take it as a compliment. I hope you are not the new kid in a fifth-grade class, glasses on your nose and your hair in tangles. I hope nobody ever touched your tummy and asked if you were embarrassed by the way it jiggles. I hope if you ever hear those words, you reach out your beautiful fingers and touch the temple of the person talking and ask, “Are you embarrassed your brain works like that?”

See, I have not gained weight since the eight grade and I’m twenty. I have had about four hundred people tell me I’m skinny but it’s only the two or three voices about the thickness of my thighs and the fat on my hips - these are the only voices that stick. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Take a bath. Stare at your reflection. Count the flecks beside your iris. Promise yourself you’re not going to ruin your life - you won’t let them win. Don’t let that moment cause ripples. Yank out the cruelty from your system.


stop faking it. Stop engineering your body to be a call-and-response of bruises and shots. I hope you are not fifteen the first time a boy kisses you hard. I hope you do not go home with a bloody mouth and spend the rest of your life thinking love is stained with iron. I hope you are not swallowing your sanity to be with somebody. I hope the first time you let someone touch you, they are someone worthy of your trust - I hope that nobody tries to force you into a label like “frigid” or “slut.”

In the animal world, most males have bright plumage so they can attract mates. In humans, we expect ladies to look a certain way. When you break out of the norm, suddenly you’re rattling chains. How dare you not want sex and still look this way. Maybe people are scared of admitting your body has power - it can turn heads in a baggy sweatshirt. Your body doesn’t need a magazine’s confirmation. Your body’s been through hell and still keeps on living. Put on your heels and stalk down the sidewalk. Take off your makeup. Do what you need to feel awesome.


ignore everything they tell you. Don’t let them in.

Maybe one day I’ll make a list of every single terrible magazine I’ve read. I think I’m gonna start an advice column called “If it makes them money, it’s probably not good.” /// r.i.d (via themilkywhiteway)

Love stained with iron…

(Source: inkskinned, via br0kenn-angel)