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welcome to my socially awkward life

WELCOME TO MY SOCIALLY AWKWARD LIFE

i'm Maura.
Single.18. Minnesota.
body positive/sex positive
self loving queer feminist

I think that if I could fall asleep next to you every night, I’d never really be sad again.
— Midnight thoughts (I already miss you)

(Source: reality-escape-artist, via 2gay4-yew)

hittings:

"…and besides, you were the one who always had my heart, you know? You were the one. You were the only one"
Gia (1998)
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hittings:

"…and besides, you were the one who always had my heart, you know? You were the one. You were the only one"

Gia (1998)

(via octopus-cyborg)

There is a shipwreck between your ribs. You are a box with fragile written on it, and so many people have not handled you with care.
— Shinji Moon, What It Took To Understand (via larmoyante)

(via octopus-cyborg)

It’s okay to be soft when the rest of the world is rough. It’s okay that you’re easily upset. It’s okay that you get hurt easily. It’s not a bad thing that you feel so much.

It’s okay that your hands shake.

It’s okay that you like dirty mirrors and blurry pictures better than crisp images of yourself because you’re so used to being a ghost. It’s okay to not feel real sometimes.

You don’t have to be pretty when you cry. It’s okay that your mind plays tricks on you so often that you have no idea what you actually look like.

Remind yourself that it is okay to disconnect. It’s okay to take time to recharge.

It’s okay to be alone. It’s okay to be lonely and to be vulnerable.

It’s okay to hate yourself but only if you remind yourself that it is not permanent. It’s okay to be sad as long as you remind yourself that it is not permanent.

As long as you are alive, you are growing, changing. I think the world is changing as much as I am because the trees outside my window don’t look the same as they did yesterday. I don’t think I will ever be the same person I was when I was at my worst.

Know that honesty is the easiest way to heal.

So maybe you don’t hate who you are now. You hate who you were yesterday. Your mind hasn’t caught up with your growth.

Promise me, promise me you’ll remind yourself that it’s okay to be yourself tomorrow.

I hope you look for me in everyone else and panic when you realize that they’ll never be exactly the same.
— Ten words story: you lost me. (via maisjetaime)

(via justahumann)

do not tell her you love her if you are not ready for her to call you at 3 AM freaking out.
do not tell her you love her if you cannot handle her father or mother.
do not tell her you love her if you cannot love her at her worse.
do not tell her you love her if you only crave for her curves, not her mind.
do not tell her you love her if you cannot deal with her mood swings.
do not tell her you love her just to have sex.
— do not tell her you love her. Krystal Gonzalez (via thenocturnals)

(Source: memoriesrecollected, via thatfuckinglesbian)

Intimacy is not who you let touch you. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.
— (via 7ae)

(Source: queerkaitlin, via lilac-veinss)

missmirandaaraee:

"dark lipstick makes you look intimidating"

good. stay the hell away from me.

(via missmunchkin420)


Just Fuck Me
Don’t be afraid to hurt me.
I know you worry. Please don’t. I’m not as fragile as you think.

Don’t tug my hair. Grab it. Force me to my knees with your hands in my hair wrapped in a fist. Pull hard. Make my eyes water.

Don’t graze your teeth along my skin. Devour me. Bite down until I cry out. Then do it again.

Don’t caress my throat. I want to feel your fingers wrap tightly around it. Feel my pulse hammer into your palm. Feel the breath short in my chest and that little bit of panic set in.

Don’t nudge my knees apart. Move them like they’re yours to spread. With intention. With possession.

Don’t hold my hands. I want to feel your strong grip around my wrists. Use all your weight. Make me lie still.

I want it to still hurt tomorrow.
I want to see the bruises. The welts. The handprints.

Don’t ask me if I’m ok.
I need to let go and not think.
I need you to make me yours.

Let my body answer for me with each shudder and moan. With the pool of wetness between my thighs.

These are the things I can’t control. I don’t want to control. That’s the point.

Don’t doubt.
Don’t worry.
Don’t overthink.

Just fuck me.

— (via suchvodka)

(via loneookami)

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