it’s a new month !!!!!!! and i hope something wonderful happens in it for you !!!!!

I hope all of yall find $20 on the ground tomorrow.

And I mean that.

$50 maybe

a dropped money clip from some clumsy, unobservant capitalist shithead with in excess of $5000 in it

Put it out so the universe can pull it in sis!!

I WILL GET ANOTHER JOB

I WILL GET A CAR

I WILL TAKE CARE OF MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS

I WILL ACCOMPLISH ALL OF MY GOALS

I AM WORTHY OF LOVE

I AM PATIENT

I AM TOLERANT

I FORGIVE MYSELF

Yeah datt

Niggas swear they “Gucci” and on this “Fuck bitches get money” wave after a break up until it’s been two months and you go to creep on her snap and she posts a picture of a delicious ass meal,Plate all full and shit…but all you can focus on is the Brolic ass,Tatted the fuck up Arm of her new nigga she “accidentally” caught in the picture. Shit tragic.

Now you got the phone all close to ya eye, counting every diamond in that Nigga Rollie that don’t tick,Memorizing every tattoo on his arm. Fighting back tears,Creepin through her New IG followers tryna match that random arms. That shit hurt huh nigga? Knock the wind out ya ass.

You finally find that nigga and he’s better then you in every way…but you don’t wanna believe that. “This nigga a cornball” you whimper softly to yourself,forcing a smile. Ya lips dry as hell from the cotton mouth you acquired. You wanna call out of work and take a personal day but then you remembered,you don’t have a job that’s why she left ya ass

Seconds turn into minutes,minutes turn into hours. You sitting in ya old Polo drawers,the ones wit the holes in em. She used to always buy you new underwear,you ain’t have new drawers since. Staring at the old text thread. Her last text was “I’m done with you ✌🏾” you let out a teary eyed chuckle “She use to love to say that”. You finally find enough gusto to hit her phone. “Yo?”…..you erase that one,nah that’s too bland….“ You up? I just wanna talk ”…you erase that one too,you doing a lil too much now…. “Hey👋🏾” that’s it that’s the best you can come up with. Tragic my Nigga tragic smh.

You send the message,place your phone face down and turn on Future’s classic song Throw away to help you through this trying time. He begins to hit the high note,you sing a long “Tell me that the pussy ain’t mineessss no morrreeee,Tell me you moving on and you don’t love me no morrreeee” you close your eyes. You felt that! You can’t help but think about the great times you’ve had and the bad decisions you’ve made. “Probably shouldn’t have fucked her co worker” you think to yourself. But then ya phone begins to vibrate! Its a Face time call,Its her! your stomach begins to flutter…

You let the phone ring a few times so she won’t think you are sweating her,childish ass nigga. You swipe right,with the biggest smile on ya face. Ya baby is back…or is she? Because last time you saw her she wasn’t as thick,her skin wasn’t as clear and gloing and most importantly she wasn’t getting dicked by her new nigga. SHOCKER,she didn’t call you back. He did! He greets you with smiling,his full beard glistening from her pussy. You immediately gain beard envy as you pull on your pubic hair like peach fuzz.

You sit there in complete silence,you muster up a shout,“NIGGA!” Inside you just hope he doesn’t flip the camera, but of course he does. And now you watching her take the dick. POV style. You try not to peep homie dick size but you know damn well you couldn’t hit those spots like that. She’s making sounds you’ve never even heard of before. You’re hurt and awkwardly aroused..but mostly hurt. He leans in and licks her back tattoo while balls deep inside of former bae. It’s a tattoo of her zodiac sign,it used to be your name tatted there….He knows that.

You go completely silent…she yells out “oh my god,you wanna make a movie huh daddy?😏”. Her new nigga,now known as Daddy,responds “nah baby just giving a fan a sneak peek”. He hangs up the phone….you lay on your side staring blankly trying to contemplate what just happened and where did he learn to fuck like that.

You are no longer bae. You are no longer an “Ain’t shit ex.

You’re a fan now my nigga.

Moral of the story, treat ya woman right and get a job.

not to be dramatic or anything but I deserve the world

so when a Black kid gets kidnapped and gets tortured by a group of White people it doesn’t make the news but if a White kid were to get kidnapped…it would make the national news.

13 y/o Zavion Parker was kidnapped and tortured on his way home from school in East Houston by a group of White supremacists (5 teens and 1 adult all with red hair and the adult having a tattoo the confederate flag and another tattoo saying “I hate black people”.) Zavion said when they kidnapped they took him to a shack/cabin with guns and torture items and where he sees other Black people who aren’t moving. Zavion asked why he was kidnapped, the group of White supremacists said “because you’re Black”. As the White supremacists move to the next room to load a gun, Zavion makes his escape. Zavion was found with a torn shirt and no shoes by Camecia Carmouche. Police went to Zavion’s home to follow up the lead. He, his mom, and Camecia lead the officers to the cabin/shack. According to the police they found a wooden chair, shell castings and weapons.

As of now the White supremacists haven’t been caught.

Let’s all make #ZavionPark trend today. 🗣We can’t let this go. BLACK LIVES MATTER.

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

omg im so glad to se so many people love their mummy

Why’re you being mean to my mum?

goddamn it

Nope. Googled it. 15 minuets. Nope. Not taking any chances

Koop

This has 1.2 million reblogs … Ps not riskin it

1.4 almost ps not risking it

Fuck this post

I am sorry…

I fucks with my moms too heavy to be playing games. REBLOG

Hell no.

Sorry

Y'all really got a porn blog out here doin it.

I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to my Mom lol

I second my husband’s emotion! Lol

This is supposed to be a porn blog but NO

Scrolled past but got paranoid

y

EU TE AMO MÃE 

WHY IS THIS POST BACK?

Omg this my second time seeing this shit I hate these

Im so sorry and i hate these! But i never want to chance it!!

PILAR

i hate yall for bringing this back

Welp back

imso sorry i get too much anxiety over this

hate this fucking post STOP GIVING ME ANXIETY

This bullshit is back on my dash….sorry y’all.

WHHHHHAAAATTTT TTTTHHHHHEEEEER FFFFFUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKK

Fuck!

Bruh I literally just reblogged this. Fuck. I’m sorry

My anxety means I have to reblog this even though its fucking stupid meaning someone who follows me will probably have a similar situation (I’m sorry). Posts like this are messed up.

you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog

Couldn’t risk it.

didn’t realize they change colors. now I know o gotta wish.

THIS SHIT IS REAL I GOT THE JOB I WAS NUTS ABOUT BC I REBLOGGED THIS YESTERDAY maybe it’s a coinkidink but it okay just take the necessary steps to achieve what you’re wishing for and YOU CAN DO IT

jeans on. titties out. eating a mcmuffin, listening to fleetwood mac…all, at the fine time, of 6:30 am

Everyone is born with 3 dates on their wrist. One represents when you will accomplish your life’s goal, one is when you will meet your soulmate, and one is when you will die right down to the second. Yours are all the same day within a minute of each other.

I was five years old when I found out what the numbers on our wrists were. It was whispered about on the playground, imparted in the same hushed tones that would share bad words, or question the existence of Santa Claus, or discuss where babies really came from.

My best friend’s big brother had just hit one of his dates, at 13. The day he met his soulmate, a boy in the year above him at his new school.

At five, we didn’t use the word “soulmate”. The way Anna explained it to us was instead: “One of them is the day you finish your biggest goal, one of them is when you meet your true love, and one of them is when you’re gonna… die.” That last word was whispered, but we all still heard it and felt how ominous it was.

We compared our dates, because of course we did. Counting on our fingers how far away the dates were. Some of them were close together, some where not. My numbers were special, being all the same day. What a day that would be. But 26 sounded so very far away.

As I grew up, I realized that 26 was not really very old, though. For a while, I felt very put upon. It wasn’t fair that I was going to hit all three milestones within a minute of each other. Not even getting a chance to enjoy my success or my true love before it was time for me to die.

I was there when Anna met her husband to be. We were 19, and she had been talking about nothing else for like a month in advance. But we got lost in conversation, and when he knocked on her shoulder to hand her something she had dropped, she didn’t know what time it was.

But as she turned to face him, I saw the numbers light up on both of their wrists for a moment, and then fade away. And I knew. Of course, I could’ve told by the looks on their faces as well, they were ridiculously and immediately besotted. I don’t know if it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy or not, that priming yourself to meet your soulmate might make you more open to it when it happens, but I’ve seen it happen enough times to know that it’s the real deal either way.

It’s kind of strange, knowing what your life expectancy is like. The people with years ahead of them plan differently than the people who know they’re going to die young. I dated a bit, but never got serious. I’ve seen plenty of people have good relationships with people who are not their soulmates, perhaps even marriage and children, knowing that their soulmates are years away still.

But for me, I never got super into any relationship. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. And kids were never an option for me. Not that I didn’t want them, but leaving them motherless so young seemed cruel.

So I threw myself into my work. For me, my goal was to write a story that had a real impact on someone else’s life. A lot of the people I knew who were destined to die young had goals like mine, wanting to leave some kind of lasting impact on the world.

Researching my story, I made contact with a brilliant surgeon named Kathryn. She lived in another city, but we had a good online relationship. She was funny and smart, and didn’t treat me like I was crazy when I came with her with strange medical hypotheticals to work out for my story.

I put her first in the list of people I wanted to dedicate the book to, and invited her to the big release party, and to my surprise she said yes. I hadn’t told her it was on my date. I hadn’t told anyone about my dates for a long time.

I sat at a little table to sign my book for anyone who wanted it, and my publisher’s daughter came up, clutching the book to her chest and with a look of awe on her face that made me smile to myself.

“Miss Daren? I just wanted to tell you, this book changed how I look at myself, and…”

She kept talking, but I could barely hear her, because I noticed one of my dates had just flashed up and then faded away on my arm. So this is it, I thought to myself, as I smiled at the girl and signed her book when she offered it to me. My life’s goal all out of the way.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned around just to come face to face with the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Tall and dark, with her braided hair in an advanced style and wearing an amazing red dress. I recognized her immediately from the photos I’d seen of her online.

“Kathryn?” I sighed, both so happy to finally see her in person and realize that hey, I actually got to know my soulmate, just without knowing that that was who she was, and at the same time so angry at a world that would give me such perfect happiness just to snatch it away. Angry at a world that would make me hurt her like this.

She had seen the numbers flash up on both of our arms and then fade away. She was smiling at me, and I wanted to be happy, but all I could say was “I’m so sorry,” before the stress of the moment, combined with an unknown congenital defect in my heart made the darkness rise up from behind my eyes and claim me.

And then something I never expected happened.

I woke up.

I woke up in a hospital room full of beeping machines and strange smells, and there was Kathryn in a chair next to my bed, still in that red dress and looking simply amazing, although kind of tired.

“How?” I managed to ask. “I was supposed to–”

“I know,” she whispered, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it gently. “Technically, you did. Luckily for both of us, I am very good at my job.”

“I never realized that it was even possible.”

“It’s rare, but it happens. Us surgeons are a stubborn bunch, and if we have to wrench you out of the hands of Death himself, then we will.”

I turned my arm over and looked at my wrist. A new number. Almost 80 years in the future. I took Kathryn’s hand, turned it over. Saw her one remaining number.

“We’re going to die together,” I said, disbelievingly.

“Only when we’re really old,” she replied.

And after a few moments, we both started laughing. And we laughed until we cried, and then laughed some more.

I can’t believe I get to grow old with her. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.

Perhaps sometimes, the world gets it right.

That was fucking amazing I am in tears ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Oh I’m crying this is beautiful

White privilege can also be hard…

THIS IS THE BEST VIDEO I’VE EVER SEEN

— Nikita Gill

— Jennifer Weiner

having a job is so weird like I can literally just…. buy shit

We out here buying shit

yes bitch we are purchasing shit and fuck

workers be shopping

My name is Junie B. Jones and the B stands for BACK ON MY BULLSHIT

my kind of man