Sometimes I'm a ginger, never an optimist, always a cunt.

More than occasionally I get white girl wasted and show my ass. New York raised me right.


I could be feeling nothing for weeks and then I’d see him and there’d be too many thoughts in my mind to comprehend, too many feelings in my spine, in my fingers, sprawling through my body before I can even know why it’s happening; explosions in my mind. I’d need to write and write and write and I still couldn’t understand how just a touch could make me think so many thoughts. How a simple conversation could make me question so many things, question if I’ll ever feel that for someone else. I never thought that anyone could make me feel so much, so quickly, or even at all. I could have been burnt from the inside out and I don’t think I would have come out from the grey; but his smile rescued me straight away. Something about the way his lips curve to form his words and his hands brush on my waist. They way he can be so unhappy, so tragic; yet, so giddy, so inviting, so full of ideas. The way he lights up when I look him in the eyes, when he knows he’s being listened to. The way he makes me feel a million things, all at once. The way he sets off a meteor storm in my brain when I thought space had disappeared into a black hole. I forget what grey even is.

Meteor Showers.

(via xchloe)

I’m tired of getting fucked in ways that don’t end in an orgasm.

arixsafari (via arixsafari)

You know, I was shameful, and you do stuff that causes disgust, and that’s hard to recover from. You can say, “I forgive you” and all that stuff, but it’s not the same as recovering from it. It’s not coming back.

Robin Williams, from an interview (via violentwavesofemotion)