(Source: jessrich1401, via smile4thecamera-deactivated2013)
its so frustrating that in order to spend some time together my fiance and i have to pay for a hotel room cuz i’m not allowed at her house and she’s not allowed at my house.
fuck homophobic parents who swear they’re better than everyone one else.
grr.
sotrue<3
“You can have as many debates about gay marriage as you want, and over the last 22 years of campaigning for it, I’ve had my share. You can debate theology, and the divide between church and state, the issue of procreation, the red herring of polygamy, and on and on. But what it all really comes down to is the primary institution of love. The small percentage of people who are gay or lesbian were born, as all humans are, with the capacity to love and the need to be loved. These things, above everything, are what make life worth living. And unlike every other minority, almost all of us grew up among and part of the majority, in families where the highest form of that love was between our parents in marriage. To feel you will never know that, never feel that, is to experience a deep psychic wound that takes years to recover from. It is to become psychologically homeless. Which is why, I think, the concept of “coming out” is not quite right. It should really be called “coming home.””
—Andrew Sullivan (above with husband): Why Gay Marriage is Good for Straight America
(via saltroseandhoneybee)
Ventsesh.
i love it here. watching the sun setting on the mountains. being able to go swimming at the lake only ten minutes away. the air that smells like grass and trees and earth instead of pollution. i absolutely love it here.
but at the same time, i can’t wait to go back to jersey. i spend about 6 days a week at home. tuesdays is usually the day to go to the city. and throughout the week, there are frequent visits to walmart. aside from that, i do not leave this house. and not only am i here all day all the time, but for most of the time, i’m here alone. i know that jess has to work so much cuz if she doesn’t, we won’t be able to afford food, or our way up to jersey, etc. But it just gets to me so much being stuck in a house alone almost all of the time. i don’t talk to anyone, besides the occasional text or fb wall post. But lets be real here, texting or messaging on fb doesn’t exactly constitute as a real human interaction. I don’t mean to complain, because i know i have it good here, but god, its just really getting to my head all this solitude and over-thinking shit sitting in dark living room. i go back to jersey in two weeks, and i am both looking forward to it, but dreading it at the same time. But honestly, the only reason going back to jersey will suck is that jess and i will be apart. Besides that, i kinda can’t wait.
In the mean time, i think i’ll just keep sitting in this dark living room moping and over thinking, waiting for my fiancé to get home from work at midnight, or whenever she shows up, and continue the cycle for 14 more days.
done.
THEY’RE REAL.
(via fuckyeapockets)
![sea otters holding hands to avoid floating away from eachother while sleeping. :]](http://twentytwowords.com/wp-content/uploads/Sea-Otters-Holding-Hands-634x475.jpg)
sea otters holding hands to avoid floating away from eachother while sleeping. :]
yo amo mi novia mucho
Incubus
I was six
thirteen
(thirty-eight)
the last time an unkempt monster
crept from the depths of my closet
into the dunes of my bed sheets
which I had pulled over my wired shut eyes
the first time I heard his whisper
his muffled grunt
his yellow tartared teeth
glistened in the glimmer of the
artificial light my
mother plugged into the wall
(under the window with
wooden planks keeping the moon’s
light far from this sinister room)
and the faint yellow light wrapped
and rewrapped around my feeble bones
until there was nothing left
but the safety offered by its glow
his pores opened
my mouth shut
my hands clenched onto the fur of his back
and his chest rose and fell
just as I felt my own ribs collapsing and molding
into the wind chimes he now hangs from
the thin wires of his porch
the thin wire sculpture he shaped with
his bare hands bleeding no blood
but instead memories of
a whine
a laugh
a puzzling vulnerability
a child
a woman
a ghost
and sometimes I wake screaming
drenched in sweat I don’t recognize as mine
my closet door bolted shut
and while no light escapes the
shattered bulb he once crushed in his palm
slivers of white light trespass through the
disintegrating wooden planks
still disguising a window
I was six
or thirteen
or maybe thirty-eight
the last time a shadowed figure
brought damp, trembling hands upon my
timid cheek and whispered
“I love you.”
Permanent
<!— @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } —>
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Phantom needle penetrates skin. Black
ink drips out of her aching pores.
Muscles tense and relax
forming a wave of skin
and bones colliding
into a sea of
gasps and
sighs.
Her
dragon
breathes
fire and ice,
and with every
exhale, her taut skin
shivers. His nails drag
scars down her twisted
spine, leaving her glossed over
eyes turned inward. And just as
soon she felt this creature breathe life,
she felt him die, leaving an empty carcass of
What
Could’ve
Been
**
*
(supposed to be in the shape of a tattoo needle/gun/thing, but tumblr messed up the formatting.)
Pet Peeve.
I hate when people whine and complain about their poor grades in school, but don’t make the effort to improve them. If you don’t attend a class in which attendance is mandatory, you will do poorly. If you know you’re not great in math but don’t study for the upcoming math exam, you will do poorly. If it is the day before an important exam and you are up at all times of the night bullshitting, you will do poorly. Please refrain from whining, complaining, and talking bullshit about how you wish you were as smart as me. I’m sorry I actually study and work my ass off for my straight A’s.
