@queencrybaby11-blog

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the-sad-boy
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just-shower-thoughts

If you had a 12 inch penis, you could tattoo tick marks on it and use it as a ruler.

*whips my absolutely brolic cock out and smacks it on to the table next to my project at the local Michaels arts and crafts early bird Saturday event*

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teenfuckingspirit

masculinity is a prison, time doesn’t exist, gender isn’t real, virginity is a construct, and Jesus wasn’t white.

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black-star00
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wrecklesswander
I know I’m suppose to be positive about life. I know that. So many people tell me on a daily basis. I know I should put a smile on my face and fight back. I know my problems aren’t the end of the world. But you don’t understand. I’m tired. I’m tired of looking at my face. I’m tired of not knowing what to do. I’m tired of all the people hurting me, even when they don’t realize they are hurting me. I’m merely sick and tired. I feel like such a waste of time, a downgrade, a replaceable, and an empty person. So instead of standing up and auguring I just sit there silent, I cry until I fall asleep. I can’t fight back my tears anymore. I’m sorry I’m not better. I’m sorry I’m too much to handle. I’m sorry that I’ve given up. I feel as if I wasted my whole life to achieve nothing, literally nothing. I want to find a purpose. Something to look forward to. I’m so unhappy and isolated. For the last 5-6 years I have been so sad. That sadness has grown inside of me and it’s all I know now. I can’t stop it, I can’t control it. Because even when I’m happy and laughing, it’s seems like it’s still there, just waiting to strike at me and take me down. I always pretend to be a cold hearted person when in reality I cry about everything, all the time, literally, always crying. I’ve given up and lost hope. I don’t think I will ever be the girl I used to be. Because of how much my sadness has consumed me, I’m a different person. Walking in large crowds, feeling more lonely than ever. Doing random tasks and only thinking about how much I want to be dead. Before you go telling me how many people are greatful for me, just think. Did you ever think about the fact that some people just don’t want to live ? 
They have no dramatic reason, they just dont want to live. I’m sorry I don’t cherish life the way you do. I’m sorry I feel as if I don’t belong here. And I’m sorry that at any given point in time I will just completely give up and die. I’m sorry if me dying is an inconvenience to you. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.

(via black-star00)

Source: thatbrokengirl
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queencrybaby11-blog
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aks-thoughts

Things I like.

Sleeping against someone special, keeping secrets, dancing, being quiet, never giving a damn about the weather, staying up late, hugging, reading, listening to music, drawing, painting, drinking tea, playing guitar, watching bad movies, smiling, making people smile, pretending to be a guy, dreaming, cuddling, eating new food, taking my clothes off, acting, science, ninjas, pornography, people who make funny faces, second hand smoke, cemeteries, Halloween, crimes, Christmas lights, police reports, records, books, soft things, dinosaurs, satire, pirates, art, vampires, zombies, singing, orgasms, poetry, being warm, hot showers, smart people, sandboxes, guys with weird eyes, palindromes, empty notebooks, book stores, cop dramas, medical mysteries, magic tricks, fruity cereal, apples, serial killers, free wifi, sex, superheroes, villains, cats, dogs, guns, wrinkled pieces of paper, purple, scary movies, funny books, chocolate, cake, ice cream, candy, soda, cheeseburgers, practical jokes, deep voices, laughing, shiny things, stickers, TV shows, concerts, alcohol, marijuana, sleepovers, jackets, boots, colorful socks, writing, aliens, action figures, picnics, crawling, rolling down hills, playing with fire, catching bugs, fixing things, puzzles, flash lights, pianos, pennies, violins, stars, funny people, awkward guys, piggy banks, flowers, stuffed animals, cookies, brownies, scarves, gloves, picture frames, turtles, crayons, knives, pillows, fitting into small spaces, piggy back rides, swings, scissors, lighters, envelopes, getting mail, wall paper, doorknobs, buttons, small boxes, pockets, summer nights, snow, running, being right, using big words, bike riding, ice skating, feathers, swearing, pretending I’m a child, chemicals, rings, yarn, robots, crime scene photos, photography, antique maps, accents, hole punchers, pocket watches, being clever, puppets, the smell of coffee, shopping, suits, bow ties, fast cars, chewing gum, gorillas, ghost hunting, lions, being in love, hating everything, talking to myself, to be continued…

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luvpoem-blog
it’s fucking ironic how the boy who breathed in smoke to kiss you hard with stardust pouring from his lips was the boy who set you on fire with his cigarette breath and forgot to put you out when the flames consumed your lungs and then suddenly your kitchen sink was coated red with blood stains from failed attempts of scrubbing his smile out of your veins and the only time you could forget his name was when you were throwing up your moms whiskey alone on the bathroom floor in a pool of your own tears and puke and you’ve never felt so goddamn alone now it’s been three months and your sister wonders what happened to your smile and your laugh and sometimes you hear her sobbing in her room because you accidentally let her see you cry so you run away without ever leaving your bed because he still loves you when you close your eyes so you scream that you hope that you’ll never wake up and then you realize that when love dies so do the flowers in your mothers garden because she’s so afraid they will remind you of him but he is nothing and he is everything and you never could get his fucking smile out of your veins

sharp edges (via luvpoem)