im learning to love myself for the first time.

Katie. 19. From New Zealand. Living in Portland, Oregon. Pacific Islander. My dad says I have a potty mouth. //
instagram• thisdorkkatie
twitter• katielewis95 //

3 A.M. thoughts (via marry-me-rebecca)

Love is a hell of a drug and I’m coming down fast.

nnilkshake:

life hack: make out with me

(Source: nnilkshake, via dutchster)

vinebox:

if girls acted towards guys the same way guys act towards girls

(via impeccablyvanilla)

whatwouldfezwear:

the-sarcastic-robot:

if you want to kill someone stab them with an icicle because the icicle will melt and then there will be no murder weapon

Better yet, make like one of my favorite short stories and murder them with big frozen leg of lamb and then cook the lamb. 

Then when the police arrive offer them something to eat and then have the police eat your murder weapon. 

image

I love that story

(Source: katorade27, via thatisradical)

Salma Deera, you will never be lovelier than you are now. we will never be here again (via writingwillows)

when icarus flew towards the sun, he didn’t
forget to remind her to close her eyes so he’d be safe.
baby, he flew straight into them and he burned.
so maybe love is melting.
maybe that’s all it is.
everything sweet and cool and lovely is doomed.
you leave ice cream out in summer and it melts,
you leave a cup of ice on the table and it turns to water.
you leave your life in somebody else’s hands and
you’re a pool of everything you’ve almost loved.

Cracked spine, IS. (via wordsofindya)

You never finish what you start.
You fall asleep before the movie ends,
and wake again to the menu on loop.
You give up before you reach the finish line,
and never eat an entire meal.
I used to get annoyed
whenever you would skip songs
without letting them end,
so I don’t know why I was surprised
when you left me on the floor
amongst a stack of books with cracked spines,
that you never finished.

If only (via letters-to-the-sea)

Her hair smells like her strawberry shampoo because she wants to remember the time when she was 8 and she and her mom baked strawberry cake.

Her eyes, they look older than her 18 years, soft brown like the color of soil after it rains and when you look closely enough, you can see all the pain.

Her nose is tired of sniffing chemicals that only take her sadness away for a time but she wants to take what she can get because she cannot escape.

Her lips are cracked and dry from kissing the mouths of men who never truly see her for who she is and only wants what her body gives.

Her neck is graceful, but she uses it too much to turn her head down for she can never really hold her head up because everybody looks at her like she’s dirty, and she already thinks she is, so why see her reflection on everybody else’s eyes?

Her shoulders are stooped from carrying the weight of the world, because nobody was ever there to share her burdens ever since her parents burned.

Her chest, ribs sticking out, scars from long ago bruises fading in, she never really felt strong at heart, for it was taken away by death and the demons in her head.

And her waist is small, and once ago, when she was 15 her tummy held life and she thought, “finally someone’s gonna love me back”. But God took that away too, and her heart wasn’t quite the same after that.

Her hips hold the faint indention of the fingers of the man who ripped away her innocence when she was 12, he made her call him daddy but daddy’s don’t hurt daughters like that, do they?

Her legs are shaken and weak from too many beatings she always ends up on her knees. They used to wrap around the only man she ever loved but he loved drugs more than he ever loved her and she lost her heart to a mistress who chased his demons away.

Her feet are listless and they don’t know where to go. She hopes she finds her way. She’s tired of walking this cruel earth on her bare soles.

She is broken and beautiful, all the broken ones are. And if only someone told her she was strong enough, if only someone would look at her and see how pure her soul is, perhaps she’ll be saved. .

She is beautiful. If only someone told her so.

you asked me why i was sad (m.g.t)

i am sad for a lot of reasons.
i’m sad because they told me
that the good guys always beat the bad guys
but they don’t really
and because I’ve never met a real-life good guy
i’m afraid that they’ve gone extinct

i’m sad because I used to
see this world in color
bright, vibrant color
but now everything is a dull gray
i’m sad because I’m slowly losing interest
in everything that I love
and because that is a warning sign

i’m sad because I keep yelling at my mother
and because that’s bad and I shouldn’t

i’m sad because nobody knows me
and because it’s my fault
i keep pushing them so far away

i’m sad because i used to
get good grades without trying
but now i try and fail

and i’m sad because sadness is in my bones
because i’ve always been sad
but it’s only just occurring to me now

i’m sad because i need everyone
and no one needs me

i’m sad because i’m young
and fresh and alive and
all i can think about is death

i’m also simply sad because i’m alive
and because i’m not brave enough
to do anything to change it

i’m sad because every time i look in the mirror
i see disappointment, disgust, anger
and because I can’t change any of that

i’m sad because i’m fading
because I’m fading quietly
because before long i’ll just be a memory

i’m sad because i
told someone about me
and she cried

i’m sad because they told me
self-harm was bad and evil
but this evil thing i’ve done
feels better than anything else

i’m sad because nightmares
have become a routine to me
because they’re waiting behind my eyelids
to take away the last sanctuary I’ll ever have

i’m sad because there’s this boy
and he is perfect but he doesn’t know it
and i will never get the chance to make him see

i’m sad because there
are so many beautiful people
who don’t know they’re beautiful

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