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It’s 3 a.m. I’m still awake. I’m losing sleep. I’m losing myself.

I’m losing you.

So I write tonight. I write for everyone of us who has suffered. Every one of us who is broken. Every one of us who has a damaged soul. Every one of us whose brilliant scarlet became just another red.

This is for us, the broken ones.

And for the ones who broke us in two.


Nikita Gill, We Used to be Happy (via untamedunwanted)


when u at a concert & ur favorite band member looks u in the eye



the actual, physical ache you feel in your chest and in your bones when you’re so sad is fucking awful.





So apparently in my sister’s class, there was a trans girl that had been on the cheerleading squad for a while. When she came out, the other girls on the squad made the agreement that whatever boy made fun of her would never get a date. And if you think that’s not the most metal girl alliance ever, you can sit down.

Girls protecting girls.


(Source: passive-aggressiveprincess)


my interests range from cute puppy’s to hard core sex


life hack: get a tattoo. if the people at the job interview notice it and look concerned, laugh a little and explain “it’s just temporary.”  months later if your boss asks why you lied and said it was a temporary tattoo, stare off into the distance and whisper with a tremulous voice the poor excuse for truth your subconscious has been fighting for its entire insignificant existence: “everything is temporary.”