You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.
— Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (via aiux)
Sex, drugs and Reese's peanut butter cups.
The thing that sucks about mental illness is that if you aren’t depressed enough, suicidal enough, bad enough, nobody cares. Nobody cares until you reach their standard, and that standard is when your problem is bad enough to effect them
The amount of people who can relate to this makes me equally incredibly sad and immensely angry
I have always wanted to kill myself, and I still do, but killing myself means I can no longer be with you… and being with you is what I want most in this world.
— j.k. (via sporerocket)
This is me just sitting. No poseing or anything. I used to hate my thighs when I sat like this, but it’s so silly to think about that now. Of course they smoosh when I sit, they are not made of stone, they are soft and pliable and I like them for that now.
The only time I like my thighs is when I am sitting. I think your thighs look fanfreakintastic in these pictures.
phone calls are the most terrifying thing in the world