Posted 8 hours ago

Hard and loud and long.


Scream because this world is a terrible place.
Scream because this world is made of lies.
Scream because you feel it crawling inside you infecting you and you feel it begin its meal right on your heart.

Scream because this is pain and anger and desperation.

Scream because this feeling is so familiar you might confuse it for your home.

Scream because time after time you’ve fought for what you wanted most in life and time after time you ended up hands grasping onto your hair, knees pulled up to your chest, and your heavy breath interrupted by the sobbing that threatens to shake your bones out of place.
Scream for all the times they told you to give it time for things to get better. For all the times they held your hand with their pitied eyes staring straight into your red, watery ones and told you everything would work out in the end.

Scream because it never did.

Scream because you gave it so much fucking time that you would have thought it had died and burned and turned into gray and black ashes that finally floated away from the tips of your fingers and from the lump that always formed in your throat and from the pit of your stomach where it seems to have made its permanent home.

Scream because you’ve become an exact reflection of what you hate most.

Scream because you want your blood to boil and your skin to disappear and your eyes to become blind because you’re tired of this world and all it encompasses.
Scream because things had cleared up inside your mind and breathing had become easier.

Scream because you fell again.

Scream because you had worked so hard to get to where you were.
Scream because you’re back to square one.

Scream because you are anger.
Scream because you are desperation.
Scream because you are pain.

Scream because things are hard again, and you’re not sure what to do.

Lungs (via growing-verses)
Posted 12 hours ago
I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.
Virginia Woolf (via ozlemhaluk)

(Source: 13neighbors)

Posted 13 hours ago
Posted 1 day ago
Posted 1 day ago


If you’re blue and you don’t know where to go to
Why don’t you go where fashion sits
Puttin’ on the ritz.

Posted 2 days ago

I just got back from my final exam…

I think it went well, I hope so ….. What is really maddening is that We didn’t know on what subject it would be ( British civilization or English litterature) so we had to study both subject. It was a toss, really.

I still have a final on the 13th of May but till then, I’m free. I’m going back home, I haven’t seen my parent in a bit more than a month, I need to go back on hitRECord and compose some new stuff. I miss this community. I’m exhausted as fuck and I’ll still have to study but I already did the biggest part of it. *dance of achivement*

Posted 2 days ago

This is me right there: i’ve got a 4 hour final today. I’m soooo tired.

(Source: elvishness)

Posted 2 days ago

When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”

When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.

When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”

(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)

When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.

I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.

No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.

I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.

So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:

In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.

r.d.  (via princessmilkovich)

Holy shit, this

(via deathbeforediet)

This is so powerful

(via lazyy-butt)

I always feel mean being extra cautious of guys but really you have to be. x

(via nakedcuddles)

And this is what it’s like to be female, everyone. This is why I carry a weapon with me every time I go out shopping on my own, because I could be the next fucking target for the sick bastards of the world. 

(via regina-de-bellis-sum)

(Source: elferinge)

Posted 2 days ago

Sherlock Poster Remake (inspired by x)

Sherlock Poster Remake (inspired by x)

(Source: claricedemedici)

Posted 2 days ago