tredjehandsval:

Att vårt tredje största politiska parti numera är ett rasistiskt parti skär i mitt feministiska hjärta. Idag den 14e september skäms jag över att vara svensk!

I no longer have the energy for meaningless friendships, forced interactions or unnecessary conversations.
(via hylophobic)

Sweden is so freaking disappointing right now.


x

x

You think I don’t know about all your little shenanigans…. #Becky
TAYLOR FREAKING SWIFT (x)

borrowingbones:

Taylor Swift’s many reactions to frozen yogurt will always be my favourite.

taylorswift:

simplysfans:

There’s nothing like just apple picking in the Fall, the first cold New York weather hitting you, the fashion sense steaming up, and the fresh apple cider and donuts.

I LOVE THE FALL.

And hats and scarves and knee socks and wearing tights for the first time in months and when…

airplanepain:

UT MED RASISTERNA
IN MED FEMINISTERNA

airplanepain:

UT MED RASISTERNA

IN MED FEMINISTERNA

Alliansen suger. Pass it on.
stormsfoggy:

pale/foggy

stormsfoggy:

pale/foggy

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)