Girl, interrupted

"I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them."

Wed, 22 May 2013 08:34:15 -0500

“I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.”

- Uma Thurman (via youifitkillsmee)

8yearoldslut: me arriving at the gates of hell

Wed, 22 May 2013 08:25:27 -0500

8yearoldslut:

me arriving at the gates of hell

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whythefuckareyouromeo: wtfshiroko: Radioactive (Music Box...

Wed, 22 May 2013 08:16:50 -0500

whythefuckareyouromeo:

wtfshiroko:

Radioactive (Music Box Version) - Imagine Dragons

by JoshuaSaundersMusic

Well that took me 0.01 seconds to reblog

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Wed, 22 May 2013 08:03:41 -0500

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Tue, 21 May 2013 22:20:58 -0500

The Mad King was obsessed with [wildfire]. He loved to watch...

Tue, 21 May 2013 13:40:19 -0500

The Mad King was obsessed with [wildfire]. He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn’t like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city… beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He’s never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn’t listen to me. He didn’t listen to Varys who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that grey, sunken cunt. “You can trust the Lannisters,” he said. “The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown.” So we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the king, begging him to surrender. He told me to bring him my father’s head. Then he turned to his pyromancer. “Burn them all,” he said. “Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.” Tell me, if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then? First, I killed the pyromancer. And then when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. “Burn them all,” he kept saying. “Burn them all.” I don’t think he expected to die. He… he meant to… burn with the rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn’t happen.

I feel like I’m having my midlife crisis but at the same time I’m not even old enough to...

Tue, 21 May 2013 12:19:09 -0500

I feel like I’m having my midlife crisis but at the same time I’m not even old enough to legally drink so wtf

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"I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 10:59:57 -0500

“

I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.

I am tired of fighting with my friends. I am tired of arguing that someone groping and slapping my butt isn’t “what I have to expect”, just because I’m at a bar, and the one attacking my butt has a drink in the other hand. I am tired of hearing “boys will be boys” and “when you’re dressed like that …” and “that’s just what guys do”. I am tired of trying to drown those sentiments in loud, repetitive no’s, screamed over and over again, till my throat is sore and my voice weak – just to hear them repeated, as soon as exhaustion threatens to silence me.

I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of seeing someone writing something offensive, sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, somewhere online. I am tired of seeing those writings getting likes and lol’s, and SO TRUE’s. I am tired of being consumed by confusion and anger, typing, typing, typing and typing a seemingly endless response, including research, links and statistics, and then hesitate clicking “submit”. I am tired of knowing that I hesitate because I am afraid of the flood of responses that will come. I am tired of knowing that I will be bombarded with lighten up’s, stop whining’s and get a sense of humor’s for so long, that I will start to wonder if I am indeed wound up too tight, a nagger and humorless. I am tired of the fact that I’m afraid of being called a cunt, even though I don’t find genitalia insulting or demeaning.

”

- I don’t want to be a feminist anymore (via coffeeurlgirl)