March 30, 2013
Always

Always

(via iamshewhois)

November 20, 2012
"For so many of us the lines are not always clear between the people who love us and the people who hurt us. Most of us can say that if someone hits you, that’s pretty shitty; that’s an identifiable thing, a bad thing. When I worked in shelters even women who had had that kind of violence so inculcated into them that they would explain to me how they actually deserved it understood that it was not normal, to hit another human being. It is a thing that must be justified, explained. But there is a lot that can happen up to that point, the point of physical assault, that is not so easy to define. How many of us have traded some measure of safety for the feeling that we are loved? How many of us have seen people we thought we were safe with transformed into people willing to do us harm?"

The Rejectionist | Sarah McCarry: A Few Good Men

this is how I feel all the time lately. 

(via champagnecandy)

(via so-treu)

August 1, 2012
Should this be my internet dating profile photo. Any man I love will need to be on board with the cat revolution, and all necessary disguises.

Should this be my internet dating profile photo. Any man I love will need to be on board with the cat revolution, and all necessary disguises.

6:23pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zu71EyQZPuS1
  
Filed under: cats! pathetic crisis 
August 1, 2012
not me: how did you meet?
me: he called me up to tell me he liked a story in my zine
not me: you make me believe in love
August 1, 2012
I suppose the fact that I started crying telling Elizabeth about our first kiss might mean I still have feelings.

B

ut are they good ones.

July 4, 2012
I woke up crying.

June 24, 2012
Clam in one of Liz’s pieces.
I don’t know who I am any more. There is no part of my life that has value. I keep thinking that I am just trying to survive, to get a breath of air until the next wave. What is the point of survival? Who is the person that went to the Blessing of the Animals? I can’t do anything, I am afraid of everything.

Clam in one of Liz’s pieces.

I don’t know who I am any more. There is no part of my life that has value. I keep thinking that I am just trying to survive, to get a breath of air until the next wave. What is the point of survival? Who is the person that went to the Blessing of the Animals? I can’t do anything, I am afraid of everything.

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