(Source: victorianhooker, via sameatschildren)
Dancing in-between
Now I'm dancing in-between. Cause I got nowhere to hide. Romancing the seams of my battered up insides.
Wearing a hijab isn’t inherently liberating – but neither is baring one’s breasts. What is liberating is being able to choose either of these things. It’s pretty ludicrous to think that oppression is somehow proportional to how covered or uncovered someone’s body is. Both sides of this argument present a shallow understanding of women’s empowerment, which only drowns out the substantive challenges facing all women – issues that cannot be encapsulated in a debate about a piece of fabric.
Sara Yasin, Is the Hijab Worth Fighting Over?
(via rcabbasi)
(via loveyourchaos)
For Women Who Are Difficult to Love- Warsan Shire
Easily my favorite song as I study to kick finals in the ass.
(Source: gifsanatomy)
What
do sad people have in
common?
It seems
they have all built a shrine
to the past
And often go there
to do a strange wail and
worship.
What is the beginning of
happiness?
It is to stop being
so religious
like that.
by Hafiz (via loveyourchaos)
(Source: withnailrules, via loveyourchaos)
31 Plays
Of Monsters and Men
Your Bones
So hold on.
Hold on to what we are.
Hold on to your heart..
(Source: theycallmegomer)
“You must remember, family is often born of blood, but it doesn’t depend on blood. Nor is it exclusive of friendship. Family members can be your best friends, you know. And best friends, whether or not they are related to you, can be your family.”
145 Plays
The All-American Rejects
The Poison
You’d take me with you if you could but I wouldn’t go.
Because sometimes, we both lose our minds to find a better road.
Artist'sTomfoolery: Apathy
The problem with people my age and younger is that they don’t care. Apathy is the killer of revolutions. Why fight for a better life if you think that nothing you do matters?
My sister is the perfect example of this. She agrees with most of what I say concerning feminism, but often says things…
80 Plays
She’s a latter day saint
But she’s a Saturday sinner
Suicide Sunday dessert for weekends drinking her dinner
The worry keeps her slender
The pills keep her awake
Her man can’t make her happy but he helps to still the shakes
(Source: http)
What is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.
Falling in love is like getting hit by a truck and yet not being mortally wounded. just sick to your stomach, high one minute, low the next. Starving hungry but unable to eat. hot, cold, forever horny, full of hope and enthusiasm, with momentary depressions that wipe you out.
It is also not being able to remove the smile from your face, loving life with a mad passionate intensity, and feeling ten years younger.
Love does not appear with any warning signs. You fall into it as if pushed from a high diving board. No time to think about what’s happening. It’s inevitable. An event you can’t control. A crazy, heart-stopping, roller-coaster ride that just has to take its course.
