I need to have as much wild sex as possible so one day I can become an inappropriate old lady that blurts out things like “when I was your age I got a concussion after being bent over a desk” and then my family can be like “grandma please, you’re making easter dinner really uncomfortable” and it’ll be great
enough about sex positions has anyone discovered a reading position which doesn’t get uncomfortable after 5 minutes
if lucifer needs someones consent to enter their body then so do you
For a long time, you told me to stop getting so wound up over the little things, to stop dipping into misery, and even to stop being such a psycho.
And for a long time, I thought there was something wrong with me.
You made me feel like I wasn’t normal.
That I can’t be loved because I’m too emotional and sensitive and, apparently, psychotic.
But that’s not it.
The truth is, you should have accepted me for all that I was, even my stubbornness and stropping and, yes, okay, maybe I took things to heart too much. But that is all a part of me. A big part, perhaps, but then that’s even worse.
You should have been the one to make things better. To lift me up. To change my mood.
But you never did. Instead, you brought me down.
And the moral of this tragic little story is, one day, I will find somebody who makes me better. And I will be so happy and it will be fantastic. And you will wonder how it happened.
And I’ll tell you. Maybe it wasn’t my moods.
Maybe it was just you. You never understood me at all. (via your-daisyfreshgirl)