look at the ugly bags under my eyes

look. i don’t think my stretch marks are beautiful. i don’t think they’re tiger stripes or natural tattooos. i don’t think my acne is beautiful. i don’t think the bags under my eyes are beautiful. i just think they’re human. and i don’t think i have to be beautiful all of the time in order to be accepted and loved and sucessful. i don’t think every small detail of my outer appearence needs to be translated into prettiness.

For years I was behind the “girls wear makeup for themselves!!!!” movement, but the more I’ve come to analyse it, we don’t, at least I don’t. I feel forced to wear it because without it I feel ugly and I’ve been taught that ugliness, especially when you’re a woman, makes you less of a human being, that it erodes your value. This isn’t an innate feeling, it’s taught. So when I conceal blemishes and the bags under my eyes, it doesn’t make me feel good or ~empowered~ it gives me a warped sense of assurance that only now am I worthy of taking up space, only now that I look conventionally attractive, am I entitled to exist and be respected. And that’s something I’m desperately trying to unlearn, but it’s hard.

@dragon-on-the-sea, @elixmia, @vedrividia and @kikoloureirosdeliveryservice tagged me to post a selfie (I know that a lot of you guys tagged me too and I promise I will post more pics soon)
Anyways sorry for kinda shitty selfie, I had not enough sleep, but today I really felt confident about my looks and in general I was feeling great!
So, I’ll tag: @mathiasismywhore, @scorpion-flower, @book–adventurer, @into-the-cosmic-sea, @nebraskan-metalhead, @ourlivinglies, @peter-steeles-side-bitch, @hietalice and @iron-maiden-lover

You’re beautiful - (Bucky x Reader One Shot)

This awesome idea was requested by @melconnor2007 !

Summary: Dating one of the hottest men on earth is incredible, specially since Sebastian is so loving and caring. Unfortunately, your self-steem problems go way back, and you just can’t imagine why exactly is he dating you… And neither can a gossip magazine, apparently.

Y/N: your name

Warnings: self esteem issues

A/N: I loved this idea, and I really hope you like it!! It’s a very interesting perspective to write. If you’re reading this, tell me the objet that is closer to your right hand and is not your phone/computer (I’m just curious about how many people actually read this). Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by thespoilerwitchblog

Y/N’s POV:

My makeup is spread all over the sink in a colorful mess of labels promising clear skin, a wonderful glow and a beautiful face. I look at myself in the mirror, wondering if I will ever be like the women smiling at me from the plastic tubes and boxes.

I examine my face closely: my acne had a party all over my face last night, what explains the bags under my eyes of a deep shade of purple. I look down at my puffy silhouette, covered on stretch marks and little scars. I’m a collection of everything society deems ugly nowadays.

I feel a presence behind me and look up to see Sebastian’s reflection on the mirror kissing my cheek. “Good morning babe” he smiles as he starts moving a few of my makeup products aside to make space for himself on the sink.

“Good morning” I try to smile, but it comes out like a grimace.

Seb looks at me disapprovingly. “What are you thinking?” he asks, gazing over the magazine I’m clasping. “‘How to be hot in ten steps.’” he reads out loud “Y/N, we’ve talked about this.” He arches an eyebrow until I look at my feet. Then I hear the sound of plastic being pushed aside and a set of strong hands wrap around my waist and hoist me up, setting me on the sink.

Seb positions himself between my legs and smiles at me. “You’re absolutely perfect, Y/N. You need to stop beating yourself up like that” he touches a finger to the tip of my nose, making me laugh. I lean in for a kiss but he puts a finger over my lips. “I’m serious. Promise me.”

“I promise you.” I whisper against his finger, and then I feel his lips twist into a smile as they collide against mine in a warm, loving kiss.

When he pulls away and untangles my legs from his waist, he’s still smiling. “Thank you.” he whispers back, and offers me his hand to jump off the sink. “I have to go to the gym now, babe. I’ll be back very soon and then we have…”

“The interview for that gossip magazine. I know.” I hug him tightly, and smile against his chest when I hear him gasp for air. “I love you”

“I love you too, She-Hulk.” he laughs, massaging his ribs. “See you later!”

After a while, I storm out of the bathroom in a cloud of compact powders and frustration. After about three thousand YouTube tutorials and beauty hacks, I’ve arrived to the conclusion that my face cannot be fixed.

I head over to the kitchen to get some breakfast, but it only takes me five minutes to burn the eggs. “You can’t even fry an egg you completely useless idiot…” I muter to myself as I take a bottled smoothie out of the fridge.

I hear a ding from my phone and head to the living room, expecting it to be a message from Seb. As I turn it on, I see that the notification is from a new article of a gossip magazine I’m subscribed to. I click on it and look outside while it charges, but when I read the title and see the first photos, my breath abandons me.

“Sebastian Stan, as hot as always, has finally decided to relate with people of his category”

The article is accompanied of photos of my boyfriend working out at the gym, surrounded by a group of gorgeous women. I find myself reading it with tears steaming down my cheeks.

“Sebastian Stan, our favorite celebrity and official Hottest Man on Earth (at least according to us), has finally decided to ditch his girlfriend in favor of a group of beautiful woman that definitely suit him better!

Seb was photographed this morning in the gym, surrounded by a few very famous models. Of course, the internet has gone wild, ready to ship the next Perfect Celebrity Couple. Is the actor finally going to go out with someone who is at his level? We hope so!

Even though his breakup with Y/N, his current (ex)girlfriend, hasn’t been confirmed yet, everyone is waiting for it. It was about time for him to end the relationship, a relationship we’ve never been in favor of. You can only see Y/N’s face a certain amount of times without wondering why doesn’t she get a plastic surgery.

While we await for the next Perfect Celebrity Couple, we would love to know your opinions on the subject. Who will Sebastian choose as his next girlfriend?”

When I arrive to the end of the article, I barely have energy to turn off the phone and lie on the sofa. I’m conscious Seb has never actually flirted with any of the models (It’s pretty obvious in the pictures that they were all oblivious to each other) and he would never dump me. But that’s the problem. He would never ditch me, much less like this, but he is gorgeous, and nice, and famous; and I’m… Well, Y/N. In any case, not good enough for him.

I have to leave him.

I search for my energy and manage to get up and go to my room. Once in there, everything’s easier: all I have to do is put my stuff inside the suitcase and ignore the sharp stabs of pain in my chest. Warm tears are steaming down my face, my breath is short and sharp. I won’t look back. I can’t look back. I have to do this for him.

When the suitcase is full, I try to close it, but I’m clearly not strong enough. All of a sudden, I feel two strong arms wrapping around me from my back and then closing the suitcase for me.

“Where are you off to, babe?” a scruffy voice I recognize all too well whispers at my ear.

I breathe in. I wasn’t planing on having to deal with this face to face. I turn around slowly, only to find myself inches away from Seb’s face, his piercing blue eyes formulating the question for him.

“I’m leaving, Sebastian. Don’t call me babe, we’re not a thing anymore” I tell him, avoiding his eyes. He looks confused for a second, so I take advantage on it and slide out of his arms. I try to pull my suitcase from under his hands, but he reacts and holds it down strongly.

“What have I done?” he asks, softly and with an utterly confused look on his face.

“It’s not abut you, it’s about me”

He is quiet for a few seconds before asking “Are you cheating on me?”

“What? No! I would never do that!”

“Then why is this about you?”

I look at him in the eye. I should have lied about cheating. Now I can’t think of a good excuse.


“Because… Because I hate you!” I scream, my brain grasping the first excuse it finds. “I hate you for… being so perfect. For being the ‘Hottest Man on Earth’, the man everyone wants to date. The oscar-winer actor. The man that couldn’t be any nicer or sweeter. The perfect boyfriend. I hate you for that, for being the perfect boyfriend, and I curse the day I fell for you, the day I decided to be your girlfriend!” I sob and sit on the bed, hiding my face in my hands.

I expect to feel his arms wrap around me, but they never do. After a few minutes of silence, Sebastian calls me again.


I look up to see him on the other side of the room, holding my phone. He must have read the article. Good, that way he’ll realize he needs someone better than me. He mumbles angrily under his breath.

“Y/N, please don’t read this articles. They are written by a jealous hand, and all they contains is poison. Fake poison.” he crosses the room and sits next to me. “They aren’t true, they just want to hurt you.” he presses his finger to the tip of my nose and I hit his hand away. “There’s only one reason I’m dating you, Y/N.”

This gets my attention. I sit up and look at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re the only person I’m madly in love with. You’re beautiful, even more than those models” he pulls a stray hair being my ear. “And I’m not saying this to make you feel better. To my eyes, you’re way prettier than them, way more real.”

“I’m ugly, Sebastian.”

He laughs. “No you’re not, honey. They’re the ugly ones, the fake ones. You’re Y/N, the only woman I’ll ever consider impeccably beautiful. I promise i’m speaking the truth.”

I want to believe him, but I don’t know if I should. I look at the suitcase laying on the bed. Sebastian seems to read my thoughts, because he gently turns my head to him, two fingers under my chin, and looks at me in the eye, those two blue beauties searching through my soul.

“You’re really leaving me because you think I deserve something better?” he whispers, inches away from my face. My breath gets caught in my lungs. “Let me make that decision, Y/N.”

I can’t think clearly due to his proximity. “And what have you decided?”

“I’m exactly where I want to be” he whispers back, seconds before his lips crash into mine.

Morgan Rielly - Older Brother

Team: Toronto Maple Leafs

Requested: Yes: Can you do an imagine where you’re dating Morgan Rielly but you haven’t told him you’re Sidney Crosby’s little sister? Maybe you told him a fake last name or never told him your last name?

Edited: Yes

Word count: 833

Summary: he finds out you’re Sidney Crosby’s little sister

Keep reading

I feel like makeup looks good on everyone except me and it stinks.
Part of it is acne but like part of it is I just think I have an ugly face and too tiny close together eyes and and and I could go on forever.
Not fishing just saying because I’m mad about it.
Ordered some make up from my sister and I’m excited but also like sad because what’s the point nothing can fix this. Sob

better half

thomas x reader

word count: 565

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soo for the entire time i ran this blog, i’d been taking the digital appearance of lapis. my therapist said i needed to work on body image issues, so, here is how i actually look i guess. I have light brown curly hair, pale skin (i live in washington everyone has pale skin here) and bluish green eyes. i also have a big ugly nose but i hate it so i just put a dot

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anonymous asked:

What do you think about Alec and Ellie dressing the same when they are in detective mode (grey button down, dark grey jacket)

Have I ranted about the costumes in Broadchurch yet? No? WELL THEN.

TV shows and films are all about characters. Ergo, the costumes should be all about the characters too. Good costuming will tell you everything you need to know about the character’s personality, and will change to suit their mood and the tone of the scene.

When it comes to Hardy and Miller, their costumes are fascinating to analyse. The signature “look” for both of them is Hardy in black and blue and Miller in orange.

These are the clothes they typically choose to wear of their own accord. Now, this look renders them as opposites - eye burningly-bright v. dark and dull, informal v. formal, etc. Hardy’s tendency to wear a suit at all times, even in informal settings, plus a black coat indicates how self-protective he is. His clothing is his armour and he uses it to protect himself from the rest of the world. He hides his feelings behind a business suit. He feels at home in a suit and doesn’t consider it posh. He wears it in S02E04 when he shares a bed with Ellie because he’s so nervous and awkward that he needs those layers of clothing to protect himself. Around other people, it’s always a semi-formal suit. This is the default look for him.

Ellie’s default look is trainers, comfy trousers and her orange jacket. This establishes her as a practical woman, a mum who doesn’t care about appearances. The orange jacket is particularly comforting for her, and she withdraws into it - zips it up and tucks her hands into her sleeves - when she’s feeling sad or scared. She also carries a practical, ugly bag on a strap that she often clutches to herself like it’s a safety blanket.

Their signature look, therefore, presents them to us as opposites. But the way Chibnall has constructed them is as people who are superficially opposites, but the same underneath. They are cast to look the same, and are the same age, with the same brown hair and eyes. They seem like opposites, and they are in many ways, but under it all they exactly the same, with the same values and principles and desires. They are really two halves of a whole.

It’s my opinion that Chibnall is basing Hardy and Miller off the couple Jude and Sue from Jude the Obscure - a book which is, not coincidentally, I’m sure, the only Thomas Hardy book explicitly referred to by name in the show. Jude and Sue are both traumatised by disastrous first marriages, but eventually form an extremely intimate and loving relationship with each other. Sue is incredibly intelligent and a real rebel in many ways; Jude is a rather melancholy man hung up on old dreams and desires with recurring health issues.

Here are some of the ways Thomas Hardy talks about them:

That complete mutual understanding, in which every glance and movement was as effectual as speech for conveying intelligence between them, made them almost the two parts of a single whole.

“I have been struck with these two facts; the extraordinary sympathy, or similarity, between the pair… They seem to be one person split in two!”

There is even a scene where Sue wears Jude’s clothes. “Sitting in his [Jude’s] only arm-chair he saw a slim and fragile being masquerading as himself.” Later, Jude thinks, “what a comrade she would make; for their difference of opinion on conjectural subjects only drew them closer together on matters of daily human experience. She was nearer to him than any other woman he had ever met, and he could scarcely believe that time, creed, or absence, would ever divide him from her.”

Jude and Sue are two halves of a whole who look alike and dress alike, but are superficially different. Jude says “you are just like me at heart” and Sue replies, “But not at head.” Same heart, different minds.

It is Claire who brings up this idea of two halves. “You go about your life thinking you’re complete and then you meet someone and you realise you’re only really half of something… when you meet that person… you’re only really whole when you’re with each other. Never ends well, does it?… However it happens, one half always loses the other.”

Now, I’ve already established in another post how the cinematography establishes them as two halves of a whole, but let’s look at how the costumes do the same.

When it’s all business and they’re working together, they tend to wear the same grey, black or blue suit and blue or white shirt

Here they are absolute mirror images of each other, she almost a “double for himself.”

It should hardly be surprising that they’re wearing suits, since they’re in a professional setting, but the fact that almost constantly mirror each other, with Ellie wearing a feminine version of whatever Hardy wears, is absolutely deliberate. It really gets across the sameness between them, the absolute equality of their relationship, and the fact that they share the same goals and principles when investigating these cases.

Ellie also has a black coat that matches Hardy’s, again just a tailored, feminine version of his outfit.

It goes the other way, too. Plenty of people have noticed that Hardy wears a blue sweater in S02E06 and S02E07 that matches Ellie’s blue sweater from S02E01.

Ellie’s is bigger and baggier than Hardy’s, and it has horizontal pattern stitching while Hardy’s is vertical. Hardy even wears it with a blue collar underneath, just as Ellie did.

It’s interesting that Hardy says, “I’m reborn” and that the first outfit he wears after his operation is something that reminds him of Ellie. Technically that sweater was not a good choice for a man who’d just had pacemaker surgery since you can’t really lift your left arm (watch how DT favours his right arm when he puts it on); button-up shirts would have been a better choice, but no, Hardy wanted something warm and cuddly that reminded him of Ellie. He’s like a babby duckling imprinting on the first person he sees when he wakes up.

I like that Ellie tends to match him when it comes to formal wear, but Hardy matches Ellie in informal wear because it echoes the way Hardy teaches Miller to be a better detective, and Miller teaches Hardy to be a better person.

When Hardy’s alone or in bed, he sometimes wears a grey t-shirt, which is about as exposed as he gets.

As S2 rolls on and he literally and figuratively starts to expose himself more to Miller, and she to him. In S02E05, once Ellie has forced her way into his home and made herself a permanent fixture, he relaxes around her.

Here, she is all business. The suit is on, the hair is up and she’s working a case, but Hardy’s jacket and tie is off and his sleeves are rolled up.

By S02E07 it’s different. Hardy is revitalised by surgery and is now all business as they work together, while Ellie has relaxed into informal attire and works with her hair down and slightly messy, wearing a casual, comfy blue top with the sleeves and collar open.

For them to relax like this in each other’s company indicates a deep trust and intimacy.

There’s a hundred other details I could talk about, but even so, out of all the little quirks and subtleties in the costuming choices it is their default look that I adore the most because honestly

It tells you everything you need to know about these characters and their relationship.

And that is some amazing costuming right there.


first off I fucking love Grantaire. He’s probably my favourite character in Les Mis (maybe tied with Marius and Montparnasse), and I love him so much. I don’t really love the way people write him a lot of the time, though this is just my opinion and not telling anyone how they should write him because honestly who cares? just something I wanna get off my chest bc I think about it a lot

also it’s gonna be long so, here’s a cut

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anonymous asked:



&&.      “ before ‘go died, my answer to this question would be the opposite. he had a lotta’ fuckin’ faith in me, & now ? i got nothin’ & no one to believe in me the way he did. so, i’ve got a hell of a lot more O U T E R beauty than inner. my insides are rotten, & my heart’s wastin’ away. it’s got a bigger dent in it than a totaled car. at least i look put together on the outside – some of the time that is. if i got bags under my eyes, i can hide ‘em. but, the L O N E L I N E S S i feel on the inside ? i got fuckin’ nothin’ to hide that ugliness.

Nobody is perfect all the time. Women in magazines, models, icons, your favorite celebrity, are not flawless all the time. Everyone has days where they feel ‘fat’, ugly, are breaking out, don’t see their self worth, etc. It is ok. All these things makes us human. But the important thing is to remember that all these things are TEMPORARY. That zit won’t haunt you forever, you’ll feel better after you exercise, and you’ll have days where you feel like a queen. I get so many messages telling me how “perfect” I look in the pictures I post & though those words are very kind, I get also get pimples and bags under my eyes just like the rest of the general population! But never let the temporary stand in the way of the extraordinary Xx

Suicide Temptation

It’s been forever since I’ve wrote a long imagine omg I apologize. But I’ve had this idea for a while so I just thought to go for it. Keep in mind that this imagine will have panic attacks, anxiety, etc. Also, keep in mind that this is just an imagine. Everything is fictional and not intending to offend anybody so I strongly apologize if you somewhat feel offended but please understand that it is only an imagine.

If you’re someone who suffers from anxiety or depression or any type of mental illness, I hope you’re doing better. Also, keep in mind that you were put on this planet for a reason. You’re not worthless. But please, if you are thinking of killing yourself, talk to someone please talk to someone. A friend, a relative, a hotline, anyone. Please don’t commit suicide. You are so much more than you realize.

With that said, enjoy.


It was just like any other normal day. I’m sat in class sipping from my coffee and listening to the professor. I pay attention to what he would say but suddenly I found it difficult to do so.

It became harder and harder to focus as time passed. I felt slightly light-headed and dizzy. My heart began to beat rapidly as I sweat, shaking all over. I was finding it hard to breathe.

I was having another panic attack.

I rushed out of the room and ran into the nearest bathroom. I locked myself in the stall and tried to calm myself down.

I hated this. I hated this so damn much.

It’s been a month since my last panic attack. I thought it was never going to come back. Of course I’m wrong, I’m always wrong.

Ever since my first panic attack I lived in fear of it coming back at the most unexpected moment like it did today. The worst part is that sometimes I can’t handle it. It can be so difficult to stay calm. It feels as if I was having a heart attack.

I try to breathe steadily as tears threatened to spill. I can’t handle this.

I take out my phone and dial Harry’s number.


“H-Harry. It’s happening again.”

“I’m on my way.”

Harry had always been so understanding of what I suffer from. But I wonder how he can deal with it.

I leave the stall, still a little shaken up but still find my way outside. I felt slightly better. The one day I don’t bring my medication…

Harry’s car finally pulls up and he rushes to my side.

“Are you okay?” He puts his arm around me and starts to comfort me.

I nod slightly feeling a lot calmer from his touch.

“Do you think you need to go to the hos-”

“No!” I exclaimed. He looks at me so sadly. He knows how many times I’ve gone, and he knows how much I hate it.

“Baby please, I think it’s the best decision.”

“No! Please don’t make me.”

He sighs and leads me to his car. After getting in I feel slightly embarrassed from my outburst.

“Ugh I am such an idiot.” I say covering my face.

“Stop.” Harry takes my hands away caresses my cheek. “Please don’t.”

He rubs his thumb on my cheek as he stared at me intensely. I nod and look away from him causing him to remove his hand.

He starts the car and drives. About five minutes into the ride he speaks up.

“I won’t take you this time. But I’m staying home with you until you’re better.”

I nod again, playing with my fingers.

Once we got home, we went into the bedroom and just laid in bed. I started to feel the sadness come in. It always kicks in at some point after my panic attacks.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Tired.” I reply weakly.

“Do you want to take a nap?”

“I don’t know anymore.” I sat up and started to sob unexpectedly. Harry knew that we weren’t talking about sleeping anymore.


He watches as I breakdown and embraces me.

I am such an embarrassment.

Embarrassed from my actions, I pull away and lock myself in the bathroom.

“I am such a mess.” I say staring into the mirror. Bags under my eyes, my hair a puffed up mess, my arms filled with cuts and burns only a few days old.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I start sobbing even louder as I stared at my reflection.

Who is this monster? Who made you this way? Who made you want to be this person?

I felt so ugly, so worthless. I hated how I looked.

“Y/N! Open the door!” I heard Harry yell on the other side.

I ignore him and continue to stare into the mirror, tears still streaming down my face.

My anxiety has completely ruined my life. I can’t go anywhere without having some sort of panic attack. I can barely bring myself to class, in fear that it would happen and I would be judged. People honestly intimidate me.

In this moment I felt empty. I felt too weak to cry anymore so I just sat on the cold floor and stared at the wall with a blank expression.

I don’t want to have to go through this anymore. I don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t want to be so unhappy with my life.

I don’t want to live anymore.

“Y/N! Please open the door!” He started to bang on it but I wouldn’t do anything.

He deserves better than someone like me. All I do is worry him.

“Y/N! Please!”

I get up and stare at myself once more before reaching into my drawer, taking out my pills.

This is it. I’ll finally be gone. He won’t have to worry about me anymore and I won’t have to embarrass myself like I always do. It’s better for everyone.

I finally open it and took a hand full of pills. The closest I’ve been to suicide was was when I cut my wrist too deep, but this time it could actually work.

I stare at the pills in my hand, shaking nervously.

Do it.

I couldn’t bring myself to take them.

What are you doing? This is what you want. This is what is better for everyone.

I close my eyes and take a deep breathe. Just as I was about to take them the door flies open.

Harry rushes through and immediately sees what I’m about to do and knocks the pills out of my hand.

“No!” I yell.

“Y/N, please listen to m-”

“Why did you do that? Don’t you know this is what’s best for everyone?” I sob.


I collapse on the floor in sobs and he collapses with me holding me close as I cry into his shoulder.

“Y/N, why?” I hear his voice crack.

I don’t respond and just continue crying.

“Y/N why can’t you see yourself the way I see you?”

I pull away from him and wipe my nose. “I don’t know.”

“I just don’t want to keep hurting you anymore and I don’t want to continue embarrassing myself like this, I just don’t want to feel this way anymore. God I just want to die. I’ll never be happy-”

“Stop it. Yes it does hurt when I see you like this but it’s because I love you. But if you killed yourself, I would be hurting even more. You don’t understand how much you mean to me. If you were to leave me I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Suicide is not the answer. There are so many people that love you, imagine how they would feel if you were just gone like that. Our lives would not be better. And you’re not an embarrassment okay. You can’t control when you’re getting anxiety or having a panic attack. You can’t help it, and fuck what people think their opinions don’t matter. What matters is that you do what helps you get better. I know it’s going to take a while to be okay with what’s happening to you but I’ll be by your side the whole time. And I know you don’t want to, but you need to seek help Y/N. You need professional assistance in order to get better.”

I sigh and look down. “You deserve so much better.”

“There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

I smile slightly.

“I love you.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. How dare you question my love for you.”

I smile a little more, causing him to smile with me.

“You’re the only person that gives me hope.” I say honestly. No one else has cared about me as much as he has. “I’m so grateful to have you.”

He smiles. “If you ever think of trying this again, please talk to me. I don’t want to see you try and leave me again.”

I nod and smile. “I love you so much.”

“I love you.”

He leans in and cups my cheek, staring into my eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I blush and smile shyly. He leans in closer, his lips merely inches away. Our lips brush and then finally connect. I feel the electricity run through me as our kiss grew more passionate.

After a few minutes, we pulled away.

“It’ll take some time, but eventually you will be happy. You just have to keep holding on.”

“I will.”


Hope you enjoyed :)

C: Hi i’m a 17 year old girl and i’ve never had a boyfriend before and i’ve never liked someone before. i do know the reason as to why i’ve never had a boyfriend… it is because i’m ugly I have a big nose with bags under my eyes and  a big upper lip shadow. I do not have a big booty, big breast or a small waist .

I’m very tall, very skinny and goofy looking I don’t dress the best because I don’t have the money for it. to me it doesn’t matter what people look like or what they can and can’t afford  and i can be friends with everybody.but it does matter to other people and that upsets me because I know that if no one can look past my flaws that no one will ever love me or like me. It kind of makes me sad that I can’t be beautiful like anyone else.

I always wish for a different look or to be beautiful. I came to the conclusion that because of my ugliness that I will never fall in love. I still have to find peace with knowing that . I also know that in a world full of beautiful people there has to be someone who is ugly and that had to be me. I still have to accept that as well but I think that I will be okay with that over time. I also don’t have friends anymore because my best friend and I had a big argument. my other friends make me feel like they don’t really care so im all alone. I don’t want to seem dramatic because I know that there are bigger issues in this world and there is thing much worse happening then me feeling unpretty or not having friends, and that I should be happy with the things that I do have, but I’m just not happy and everytime that I’m alone I just feel empty. I’ve had the same issue ( not having friends) years ago and that made me very cold. I really don’t want to go back to being the cold person that I was. I just don’t know why no one cares about me or loves me. I know that my parents and my brothers and sisters love me but no one else loves me and it upsets me.

anonymous asked:

people like you are the reasons others get depressed because their life isn't as "aesthetic" as yours, studies proved that people feel worse when they see those fake lives on fb or tumblr. you're the king of pretense but in the wrong light you and your friends are as ugly as everyone else.

I have 4 pimples on my face right now. when I wake up I have messy hair and my eyes are swollen. my lips are chapped because I bite them. I bite my nails too. And I have bags under my eyes. Sometimes I am sick and I look disgusting. when I cry I don’t look cute and when it’s windy outside my hair don’t look like the ones you see in shampoo advertisement. my friends have bad days too. some of them smoke too much. some of them drink too much. most of the time we are cold and do ordinary things. my life is not a movie and I don’t look like a model. I’m not tall, my skin is not flawless and I am not perfect in general. I’m not faking anything. I’m just showing the nice parts of my life and I have explained this thousands of time. and I am sure most of my followers know this because at least the ones who follow me since when I started knows how miserable I can be sometimes. I don’t think I have to post pictures of my tummy rolls when I sit down or when I look sick just to comfort people like you.. Oh and just for the record I am writing this while sitting on the toilet

I Don't Always Have To Be Pretty

When I am tired, I do not have to look nice. I don’t ever have to look nice, but especially not when I am tired. When I have bags under my eyes because I am not sleeping, or I am working, or I am thinking about working, or I am worried about not sleeping, I don’t want to have to think about how I might now be ugly, too. When I have deep purpley half moons on my face from life and circumstance, I don’t want to slap lipstick on and face the world. I want to hide nothing. I want to be the ugly, a revolution.

When I am sad, I don’t want to be sunny and smiling, pretty and bright-eyed. I want to look in the mirror and see what I feel like: red-faced, tear droplets on my eyelashes, swollen, angry, distorted, fearful, real. When I am stressed, I don’t want to have to hide the little red pimples that become little red scars. I don’t always want to hide my dry skin patches, or dirty hair, because I feel like I have to. Sometimes, I just want to be exactly how I look, maybe even worse than I look, and I want to not have to feel like I need to try. I don’t always want to have to feel like I owe the world something presentable. I don’t want to pretty myself when I do not want to, especially because I love to make myself pretty. I do not love to do that when I am just going to the grocery store. I do not want to feel pressure to do it when I am running to the mailbox. Sometimes, I do not want to feel pretty, I want to feel invisible, or ugly, or exactly the way I am. I do not owe the world my pretty face when I do not want to show it. I want to show myself, myself, whatever it is at the moment.

I do not always want to be beautiful. I sometimes want to be how I feel.

You do not always have to be beautiful. You can sometimes just be you.

  • Him: Can't you see how beautiful you are? How nice, how smart, and how talented?
  • Her: I know I am not beautiful. Every time I look at myself in the mirror, all I saw are the dark circles and bags under my eyes; my cheeks are stained with pimple scars; my eyebrows aren't perfect; my lips, chapped; I am not sexy, I am thin. All those stretch marks. All those dark and uneven spots. I look at my grades and see how my A's can't compensate for my ugly looks. Because to be honest, what guys first notice in a girl is her beauty, never her personality. And I this is why I'm afraid to like you back. There are so many girls out there who are better than me in a lot of ways. What kind of assurance can you give me that you will never fall for their charms and replace me the way my past did?
  • Him: I wish I could make you see yourself through my eyes. You are not perfect. But nobody is. You have flaws, but that doesn't matter. I am not most guys. I fall in love using my heart, not my eyes. Every time I look at you, I never saw the kind of girl that you see in the mirror. I see someone who is beautiful, brave and strong. I see a kind-hearted girl, one who would put others before herself. One who smiles at everyone she saw because she believes a smile can help lighten up a person's day, even if it comes from a stranger. I look at you and see someone who deserves to be loved, cared for and respected. I see someone who is worth it.

I wanna talk a bit about this photo and what it means to me. I’m gonna preface this by asking please don’t comment on this or message me with things like “but your beautiful anyway” or “your still pretty tho uwu”. It isn’t the point. In fact it’s the opposite of my point. My point being…it’s OKAY to be ugly. This is me after a hot sweaty 8 hour work day, no makeup, red discolored face that doesn’t match my ghost white neck, no glasses on so you can tell how close together my eyes are, smiling so you can see my chipped Simpsonesque teeth and my white mother lips, and my bigger than Tyra’s forehead, not to even mention my huge pores. Also I had a friend who used to tell me how strange my neon purple under eye bags are. I’m even getting crows feet. I used to HATE LOATH DISPISE all these features about myself. To this day I still only really post pictures of myself that don’t highlight them let alone highlight ALL of them at the same time. But I think as a body positive blogger it’s a good thing to see. I no longer hate myself in any form, even this one, because I’m not always wearing makeup in good lighting, and sometimes I look ugly, and that doesn’t diminish my worth, or value as a person.

Song Preference #6: All of Me by John Legend (Requested)

Harry: What would I do without your smart mouth, drawing me in, you kicking me out

Harry was coming home from a long day at work. He had missed you like crazy. He was hungry for the soft touch of your lips on his. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, pin you against the wall, and kiss you passionately. When Harry got home, he threw his bag on the floor and grabbed your wrist, pulling you close to him with his strong arms. He pressed his lips to yours hungrily, his lips begging for more and more. You pulled back with a naughty smirk. He pulled in to kiss you, but you ducked your head back more. “Damn it, y/n.” he grumbled sexily. You smirked and walked away, swaying your hips. “No,” Harry said huskily, “I’m not gonna let you do that,” he launched himself at you, picking you up swiftly bridal-style. “I’m gonna show how it’s really done,” He whispered, carrying you both to the bedroom you shared together, his arms tight around you.

Liam: ‘Cause all of me loves all of you, love your curves and your imperfections

You stood in front of the mirror, looking at your reflection. You saw how chubby your thighs were, how your stomach wasn’t flat. You stared blankly at your limp hair, your unremarkable eyes. Ugly. Fat. Boring. Plain. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Eleanor and Perrie were pretty. Danielle was pretty. Why was Liam even with you? You heard your bedroom open gently. You made no effort to move. “Hey babe- what’s wrong?” Liam seemed genuinely worried. “Why am I so ugly, Liam? Danielle, Eleanor, Perrie… They’re all so pretty. Why are you even with me? I’m ugly and fat and plain and boring. You’re a member of the biggest boyband in the world. Why aren’t you with some hot Victoria’s Secret model?” you sobbed. Liam wrapped his strong, muscular arms around you. “Because I love all of your beautiful imperfections,” he whispered.

Niall: You’re my end and my beginning, even when I lose I’m winning, 'cause I can give you all of me, and you give me all of you, oh

You watched as Niall and the boys performed “Story of My Life” in front of a crowd of people at an award show. You watched as Niall hit a bad note, and his face fell. He barely talked through the rest of the night. He insisted on not going to the after party. You wanted to go, but you didn’t want to leave Niall alone to be miserable. As soon as you both got home, Niall slammed a fist into the wall, leaving a blood stained on the wall. “Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I sing as well as Harry, Zayn, Liam and Louis do? No wonder they call me the worst singer of the band. I barely get any solos now. What the fuck is wrong with me?” You grabbed Niall’s shoulders firmly and looked into his ocean-blue eyes. “Niall. You can sing. You are an wonderful singer. You are just as good as the other boys.” Niall burst into tears and you held him close to you all night.

Louis: How many times do I have to tell you, even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too

You went to the AMAs with Louis, and you couldn’t help but notice how those famous, rich pop queen bees were flirting with Louis. Louis acted stiffly and tightened his arm around you, but that didn’t stop you from comparing yourself to them. You knew how ugly and plain you looked compared to them. You knew that their outfits probably cost more than your entire wardrobe put together. You burst into tears as you walked into you and Louis’s flat after a long night. “Love, what’s wrong?” Louis said, wrapping his arms around you like the caring, sweet boyfriend he was. “Why am I so ugly, Louis? Those famous pop stars, I look like a bag of trash next to them. I’m a boring college student. Those girls would love to be with you. Why are you even with me, when I’m fat and ugly?” you sobbed into his chest, not caring that your tears were dirtying Louis’s nice blazer. “Don’t ever call yourself ugly again, y/n. You look beautiful even when you’re crying.”

Zayn: You’re my downfall, you’re my muse, My worst distraction, my rhythm and my blues

Zayn was recording all day, and he came home late at night, exhausted. By just looking at him, you could tell how stressed he was. His hair was messy and oily, he had dark bags under his eyes. He didn’t look like the perfect, groomed self he always looked like. You sat on the couch next to him. “Zayn, you feeling okay?” you asked softly. “I just can’t get that note, you know? It’s not even that high, but I just can’t get it. What if my voice is getting worse? What if I can’t sing anymore?” Zayn said, burying his face in his hands. You rubbed small, reassuring circles onto Zayn’s back. “Your voice is completely fine, Zayn. It’s more than fine. Amazing, actually. You’ll get the high note, just try.” you whispered gently. You planted a light kiss on his full lips. You felt his body relax and kiss you back slowly. “God, I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispered, kissing you once again.