Becoming a cold hearted bitch wasn’t really what I planned to do with my life but here I am
names are so weird it’s like what noise should i make to get your attention
I’m going to assume this has happened to anyone who’s ever cuddled anyone and has a penis.
Source (find the exact comic yourself; at least I linked you to the webpage)
no, no, dont do this, please, if you are cuddling w/ me your boner is like a compliment and i welcome you to grind that shit into the back of my legs
if we are spooning and there isn’t a boner pressed into my butt I will assume you don’t actually like me and get really upset
Bones next to the butt are nice
Butt bones are the best bones.
where the women of tumblr make me feel better about having a boner when cuddling
I’m laughing so hard
I don’t get these posts that go like “part of me wants to be a hot girl at the bar and the other part of me wants to read and sip tea in a bookstore”
like you can wear red lipstick and a leather jacket and sip tea and dance in the rain and go to the gym and curl up in bed and get turnt the fuck up and go to church
you can literally have it all sis
the world is yours
This is the most inspiring thing I have ever read
i am not easy.
i want to be easier. first meeting laughter and conversation.
i want to be heartfelt hugs with strangers. deliberate handshakes.
i want to be soft and sultry, all ‘babe’ and ‘darling’ and ‘what’s cooking good looking?’
i want to be ‘lets do dinner this evening’, last minute plans and ease.
but i am not easy.
i am slow and delicate. words on a text message checked three times before sending.
i am anxious, replaying conversations. over and over.
and i am faultering.
all: ‘hey…um… are you busy? i..err… was gonna go and do something. but you don’t have to if you don’t want to…’
i am all heaviness and weight. all dragging my being through life.
i want to be easy. i want to float through life. light and air.
love and grace.
i want to be easy.
I met a lover in the woods.
Our spread knees got drunk off the shaky ground
outside of all the cylinders and grease.
As teens we were forced to learn the physics of permanence.
The earth rotates fast enough to keep us pinned down
on top of one another, wild among the pine needles and twigs,
that is all we wanted from gravity.
After the blackout,
we wandered down empty subway tunnels,
and explored the parts of the city
that were normally guarded by electricity.
We climbed onto empty roofs
gazing out over the skyline of insomnia,
finally getting a chance to rest.
I want this machine to collapse out of me.
I want the future to die
so the present can live.
I sleep on your side of the bed
when you’re not here, just to breathe in your scent.
I keep telling myself it’s too soon
to miss you so often and much,
but I do.
—Love and Related Illnesses