Fairs, fair..
Aneysha. 19. New Zealand..............................

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1112pm:

People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes it’s 9am on a Tuesday morning and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.

— Rosie Scanlan, “On Missing Them” 

(via dendrxn)

“ Give me just enough information so that I can lie convincingly. ”

—    Stephen King (via feellng)

curveappeal:

39,32,39

5’11

173 lbs or 78.5 kilos

I have always had major issues with my body, one of my earliest memories being when I was 4 being self conscious because Mum put me in a matching wee outfit that had a cut out over the tummy, (I wasn’t an overweight child by any means). Ever since I have felt uncomfortable in my body and perpetually dissatisfied with my appearance which led to some eating disorders and far too much time spent being self conscious. This blog has been such a saving grace in the last year as I’ve watched all of these beautiful lady’s post such confident and empowering photos. It’s made me realize how unfair it is to think all of these women with lovely curves as having great bodies and not think the same about myself. So thank you thank you!

Flowers thrown into a dumpster in Greenwood Cemetery, NY

(via peachbone)

“ I’ve experienced two kinds of love
The stable kind
You love each other
Like best friends
Talk till 6am
Even on weekdays
The kind where you’re
Both always pleasantly full
With each others
Companies.
It always ends
With salty tears
That soak your pillow
Every night
For weeks
Till the void is filled
With something
New.
Then the not so stable kind
You’re both
Raging with
Anger and need
And frustration and
Spite and jealousy
And hate and fear
And pride and
Fuck yous thrown
Form every angle
Till bloody tears screech down
Your face and
You both collapse
Exhausted
And do not talk
For weeks
Months
Years
I’d like to say
I don’t prefer the latter
Like I’d like to say
I don’t prefer
Sugar in my tea
And I probably would say that
With my collection of lies
To myself
But
There’s something sickly sweet
About the taste of
Not knowing
About insecure hearts
Hanging on strings
Above barbed wire
And growling beasts
And thirsty fire
Which is why
When you’re done
Trying to forget me
And sulking
And fucking
And I’m
Done lying to boys
And pretending
About being
Loved up
I always take you back
For another
Shot
To the chest ”

—    p.k — no sugar please (via youalonefilltheuniverse)

(via lovelyenergies)