elliottsmelliott:

thygirl replied to your photo: I like big ass whales a lot.

i like big asses and whales a lot

Hell yeah

four years ago i didn’t think i had the right to my own body

but the worst outcome reminded me that i did

and i thank that potential person every day for the life it let me choose

dis0riented:

When a guy calls you hot, he’s looking at your body. When a guy calls you pretty, he’s looking at your face. When a guy calls you beautiful he’s looking at your heart. All three guys still wanna fuck you though.

This gave me the most genuine lol

(Source: thesickestjokes, via rightblindlefty)

I can’t help but be attracted to the corner of a restaurant, if you put me in the middle I am existing far more than I am comfortable.
A corner keeps me safe while I am trying to make the big leap to make an order I haven’t made before.

“I mean, I know I always get P1 but C3 has squares of blood sausage AND bolded as most popular…what if I am disappointed, my whole week will be ruined, P1 is all I can handle”

I’ve gone on a lot of dates to eat pho, more like two.
It is the best because I still eat a little sloppily and get to chew on little pieces of cow stomach and see the reaction of someone new across from me. It makes me feel good, to do that.

Girls who eat pho alone aren’t in business attire,
their hair is dirty and something moderately unnerving might have just happened to them. A girl alone in the corner of a Vietnamese restaurant during a busy lunch rush has a look on her face that says, “I can’t be bothered, I’ve been empty all day in preparation for this”
A girl who eats pho alone is working though something in a bowl, it is spicy and luckily under 7 dollars.

I always take a minute to get a hold of my chopsticks the correct way, I always tend to forget anything that is a straight shot to making myself feel good. I remind myself of it every once in a while by relearning a technique that ends up making me smile, it makes me mumble, “oh, yeah”


I used to get pho as take out, “girls who eat takeout pho, under a blanket out the biggest bowl she has and finishes every last drop to fill sadness or coldness or you know, whatever “.

Don’t come knocking on my door
until Tuesday

my old side of the bed might miss me, i wonder
an opposite taking place
do they know the placement my body took
do they know what we said there
Is my hair left behind, hiding in the mattress?

I leave strands everywhere I go, as a reminder to
whoever looked me in the eye and to strangle the ones
who wouldn’t.

Don’t come knocking on my head, ever.

My own finger tips on my neck feel just as good,
as dishonest hands that never should find their way around it.
Do you see my eyes through the window?

only when it’s dark on one side