you are the stars

I'm honestly so ready to pierce things

in the morning, i get on tumblr and reblog beautiful images, but by the evening i devolve into madness

Hanging out with people will make you remember you're the crazy woke friend for like. not wanting to shop at shien

I KNOW when characters are bisexual. even when it’s not explicitly said

can I talk to you in the woods about something

Many relationships would be a lot healthier if we romanticized honest, open and direct communication instead of idealizing the idea of a partner who's intuitively in tune with your every need. You don't need someone who can read your mind, you just need someone who's willing to listen when you speak.

I'm killing everyone sorry it's not negotiable

I think I had a moment of clarity where I really realized how stupid it feels to have an eating disorder earlier like yeah I got addicted to.. feeling bad

I was thinking about various substances and wondering if I would get addicted to them and then it hit me I got addicted to feeling bad I could definitely get addicted to anything

Your misbehaving boyfriend is not funny to me

people should be allowed to have low ambition, and also be able to feed a family on the salary of a cashier at a convenience store.

we're smoking home depot 2x4s

(loudly so women will hear) I would hang out with princess peach even if she didn't lure me in with cake. (Looks over my shoulder to see if anyone is watching)

the hottest part of sex is when i take off my glasses and put them in a safe place

everyone with glasses can relate to this.

The transfem is inherently touch starved. We didn't get to be little girls or teenage girls or regular college-age girls. We tried to meet our needs through rough-housing, but it only goes so far and lasts so long. Mom and dad stopped holding us when we stopped being cute and little, but we watch long into our teens as our cisters curl up on the couch next to their parents who pull them in for a snuggle in front of the tv well into their teens. We watch cis girls do each other's hair and makeup and hug and hold hands and yern for that freedom of touch. We think we'll get it from partners, but even those TME people who love us are afraid to touch us. They take our touch and our holds because they fit better as the little spoon and they're used to it, and we weep inside. "This is good enough I guess," says the transfem. "This is better than nothing. This is better than a kick in the teeth." We're doomed (unless we luck out real hard and live near lots of other transfems) to a life of low contact, of being treated like a threat or a pillow or a sex toy with very little in-between or outside those categories. Do better for us. Put a hand on our shoulder. Put your hand on ours when you ask how our day is and look into our eyes. If you really view us like women, treat us like one.