anonymous asked:

To the anon (and you) about the whole no guys like me they only like my friends situation.. I'm in the same boat. Holy moly like lately it's bringing me down so much. Like my friends are constantly telling me about what this guy said and they always have a guy.. They're never single and here I am.. Never kissed a guy, no ones ever really liked me and i know it shouldn't but damn does it make me feel like crap. Anyways yea it was nice to see I'm not the only one

aw guys!! theres plenty of us girls like this who are out there and please dont let this bring you down!! we’ll find someone who’s worth our time and soon we’ll be the ones sharing our cute ass stories with our friends but dont worrry about it too much we’re still young!!

Please, warm your hands on the heat of the flames.
Go find yourself a nice stick,
And then start roasting marshmallows or hotdogs on it,
Because I have got a ghost living inside of me,
And the only way I seem to be able to tell anyone about it
Is through campfire stories.

So let me tell you about my apparitions;
The ghost of a girl I have found I share myself with.
How strange it is to be haunted by the spirit of someone still living-
That there exists a physical manifestation of one’s phantom.

But, despite being a reflection of you
I do not call this ghost by your name-
I call it by a lot of names, but never yours.
Just in case I summon the real you by mistake.

Instead I call this ghost absence,
Because that is what it is, mostly.
It is a pit in my stomach like void.
It is like remembering too late that I’m only ordering for one,
And having to eat the same thing for two days.
It is dialing your number when I know you won’t answer,
Just to breathe into your voicemail and then hang up.
It is nights where the stars forget to shine,
And the moon seems to have lost itself in the sky.
It is trying to figure out exactly how many days it’s been since the last time you held my hand.
It is deciding that calculating that is probably more pathetic than it is poetic.
It is finding out that it’s been 68 days since you’ve held my hand and realizing that I can feel that number etched into the bone of every finger.

Sometimes I call this ghost mirror,
Because I’m haunted as much by my own self as I am by your memory.  
And because I still talk to your reflection.
And because I am still friends with your sister,
And she wears almost all of your features,
So I can still see your sunrise of a smile
Even after you leave me.

Sometimes I call this ghost temporary.
People have told me that it will fade in time.
Like, the memories will become blurry
And the aching will dull
And I’ll be able to go through the day
Without visions of you.
Sometimes I’m not sure this is true.
Other days I’m sure it is,
But I’m not sure I want it to be.
Tell me, how lonely does one have to be
To want to keep a ghost around for company?

Sometimes I call this ghost postcard,
Because a postcard is a snapshot that you send to loved ones,
Who will probably never experience a place themselves
As fully as if they had been there.
And this ghost, these names and descriptions,
These are only snapshots of you,
That I send to those
That will never experience what we had
As fully as if they had been us.
I can only give a glimpse.
I can only tell you about the little pangs.
About walking home with my phone burning a hole in my pocket
But knowing that you won’t answer if I call you.
About seeing that you are doing everything the two of us had planned,
But you’re doing it while holding his hand.
And, about how you probably don’t miss me like I do you.
How I’m not a ghost to you-
I’m just a photograph with a face cut out,
Absent, temporary,
But never a collection of reflective glass shards,
And definitely not pretty enough for a post card.

—  Campfire Stories and Postcard Ghosts

i don’t know whether to laugh or be angry at myself that i accidentally gave all my witch girls plant-related names:

-rosie jenkins: rosie comes from “rose,” obviously a rose is a flower

-emi makino: makino means “pasture field”

-iona bramble: brambles are prickly plants

-olive persimmons: her whole name is plants

the only main girl who missed out is kiera o’connor. congrats kiera you’re not a plant

neverenoughneversatisfied asked:

Ive pole danced before and I was wondering how you became a stripper. Ive sort of always wanted to or at least dance in a club and was wondering how you got started/got into it.


I have talked about this a fair few times now so i’ll give you a bit of an abstract and if you want to check out my full story just check through my archives: theres quite a few entries :)

First step to dancing at a strip club: Decide if you actually want to dance in a strip club.

I have heard a fair number of girls who have taken pole dancing lessons say that they want to give stripping a try. Only one of them thus far (in my sphere) has actually followed through and become a dancer. I think its because the word “Dancer” is kinda factually incorrect because we don’t only dance: a stripper has to be a compelling sales person/ professional flirt far more than she has to be a good dancer. If you don’t want to talk to customers and hustle then stay at the pole gym- there’s no shame in that.

If you do decide to become a stripper then getting hired is SUPER easy. Rock up to a strip club in a full face of makeup, matching bra and panties, and suitable shoes. They may ask you to audition, and thats where your pole skills will come in handy, but they may not. I turned up to a strip club half drunk, got dragged up on stage by a dancer, and took my clothes off: the club hired me to work that same shift the next week. 

I hope that kinda answers your question, i know that stripping can seem like another world that is hard to gain entrance to but honestly strip clubs are a machine: they need girls to keep the wheels turning! Oh! Final statement: if one club doesn’t hire you: another will.


god, isn’t is so FUCKING weird how white guys can talk about feminism on somethingawful all day and night long and be praised for it and no one really insults them over it, but the SECOND a black man and an autistic girl do the same thing and call out a rapist they get attacked a ton over it and lose all of their friends and have people make shit up about them and actively try to ruin their online lives.

isn’t that one weird fucking coincidence