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I'm Hannah. 17. Gaaaaay as fuck. I like girls, bands, books, and archery. If you wanna know anything else just ask. If you need to talk or anything you can come to me, I gotchu. Ask if you want my skype, kik, or snapchat

bussykiller:

me at my high school reunion

bussykiller:

me at my high school reunion

sassyabrahamlincoln:

"what classes are you taking this semester"

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glowcloud:

seriously the child actors on this show are so good

fun first date ideas: overthrow ur government w/ the bae

sixpenceee:

guykneecologist:

This.

omfg reblogging till the end of time

radicalrebellion:

feministcaptainmorgan:

baronsledjoys:

firecannotkillafitblr:

This drives me mad. I used to work in a bookstore, and was talking to my coworker and he just yelled out “stop flirting with me!” at this ridiculous volume and it was humiliating because
1. I wasn’t
2. I got in trouble for acting unprofessional
3. He embarrassed me in front of a line of people
4. And he only stopped insisting that I was flirting when my boyfriend (who is now my husband) said, “dude, trust me, she’s not flirting with you” to him

That asshole respected my BOYFRIEND saying I wasn’t flirting more than he respected me saying it and I was the one who was talking! The whole scene got me in trouble at work. And the most ridiculous part is we were talking about a fucking book. In a bookstore.

One time, my ex boyfriend had a crush on some girl, and said that he thought he might have “a chance” with her.

When I asked him what made him think that, he said “Well, she talks to me.”

And this is why it is so difficult to be a girl and be friends with men who are attracted to women.

Can we also add that this is why a lot of women do the resting bitch face when out in public. Cause dudes swear a glance or a smile is flirting.

Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Kelsey and I’m nineteen..”
but what I’d really like to say is:
“My name means island of the ships but once
I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck-
not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire
after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.”

I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s.
They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special.

The doctors, they want facts not details.
“I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“
The right or the left?
Conversation over.

The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.
You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do?

The adults are a spew of questions.
What school do you go to? What classes are you taking?
What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend?
No, stop.

People my own age are the worst.
“I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.”
Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know,
done it?

I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2
my goals at a stop light at traffic hour,
my medical history on a billboard for the world to see.
But what about me?

Where’s the chance to say,
“I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets,
and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down
so I can swim with the stars.
I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it.
It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome.
I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years,
each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.”

No wonder none of us know who we are anymore.

lrnaonerd:

how do people rap i cant even talk without messing it up

fashiondisastercecil:

okay but hear me out here

*clears throat*

canon, healthy, non-sexualised lesbians who don’t die

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zonk-ed:


leahkealoha:

Every lesbian is reblogging this right now.

I just wanna look like this

zonk-ed:

leahkealoha:

Every lesbian is reblogging this right now.

I just wanna look like this