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sadgirl

@littletrippyprincesscx-blog

just a sad little girl in a big sad world
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stargazerinmoksha
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stargazerinmoksha
fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuckyouforleavingmeherelikethis.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuckthismonth.fuck.

A poem about the end of all relationships. // k.c. (via poetryleftbyher)

thecalminside
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thecalminside
Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.

Louise Erdrich (via thecalminside)

quotebook-in
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quotebook-in
I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter, a bit more Gene Kelly dancing in the rain.

Jonathan Carroll (via quotebook-in)

Source: quotebook-in
deityfox-deactivated20181204

Give me a letter. 

  • a – age
  • b – biggest fear
  • c – current time 
  • d – drink you last had/are having 
  • e – easiest person to talk to
  • f – favorite song 
  • g – ghosts, are they real 
  • h – heritage 
  • i – in love with 
  • k – kissed someone
  • l – last time you cried 
  • m – middle name 
  • n – number of siblings 
  • o – one wish
  • p – person who you last called 
  • q – question you’re always asked 
  • r – reason to smile 
  • s – song last sang 
  • t – time you woke up 
  • u – underwear color 
  • w – worst habit
  • x – x-rays you’ve had 
  • y – your favorite food 
  • z – zodiac sign
deityfox-deactivated20181204
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t00-rad-2-be-sad

go on anon and

tell me about your crush tell me about your favorite make up to use tell me a secret tell me about your biggest fears tell me what you like about me tell me what you dislike about me tell me your favorite thing about yourself tell me how your day was tell me about the person you hate tell me about your pets tell me anything ask me anything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

bastille
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queerlyquinn

My therapist and I decided that from now on, when I’m thinking something negative about myself, I’m going to imagine that Donald Trump is saying it, because it’s really easy for me to just tell him to fuck off.

Example:

Trump: “Your thighs are fat.” Me: “Fuck you and your fucking wall.”

I think we’re onto something here.

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justedrecoverythings

this is probably the best coping skill I’ve ever seen and I am ten billion percent going to use it too

wordsoftheforbidden
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wordsoftheforbidden
Someone once asked me, “why are you so insecure about committing?” And I wanted to tell them that it was because throughout my whole existence, all the couples in my life were torn apart by either temptation or just flat out the lack of love being evident in their voice when they said ‘I love you’. It was because whenever things were going good for me, I had the tendency to mess them up by taking that random boy home from the bar or ignoring the man that gave me his nonstop attention. It was because when I was younger, my father had looked me in the eyes and told me that I would never amount to anything before exiting the front door, yelling back at me that I was not worth staying for. It was because I feared that history would repeat itself and I would end up committing to a man that was exactly like my father. It was because I never knew what it felt like to give someone my all, I never understood what it was really like to be in love. So the only explanation I can give was, “I am not insecure about committing. I am insecure about myself.”

Jennie B. // It was never really about standing up at the altar and giving my vow to only be sowed to someone else for the rest of my life. It was always about whether or not I was worth it and whether or not I would ever find someone that made me feel as if I was. (via wordsoftheforbidden)