Seduce my mind,


Cece. 21.
USAF wife.
Pissed off. Happy. Centered. ✌
/me


-->The Skeptic.<--

Nick LakeIn Darkness (via hellyeahitsrandom)

(via hellyeahitsrandom)

When you keep hurting someone, you do one of three things. Either you fill them up with hate, and they destroy everything around them. Or you fill them up with sadness, and they destroy themselves. Or you fill them up with justice, and they try to destroy everything that’s bad and cruel in this world.

bisexualpiratequeen:

I’m trying hard to live by Cat Principles.

1- I am glorious above all things
2- Eat when hungry, sleep when sleepy, play when bored
3- Affection is given and received on my terms and only mine
4- Show displeasure clearly.
5- NO
6- Demand the things you want. If they aren’t given, demand them again, but louder this time.
7- If you are touched when you don’t want to be, say so. If they continue to touch you, make them bleed.

This is my life, and this is why I could never have a cat.

(via weatherwithyou)

mvgl:

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air 2x09 - “Cased Up” (November 11, 1991)

(via skullsandcherrys)

Epiphany. (via 1missedcallfrommom)

(via pizza-boi)

I’ve found that growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am.

empty-venus:

Breaking news: White fuckboys on twitter bitching how funny it is that Beyoncé is a feminist when she and her dancers were provocative and half naked. Despite feminism being about empowerment and a woman’s right to do whatever the hell she pleases with it, they just don’t seem to be able to grasp this concept.

In other news, men still don’t know what feminism is, still bitter that they aren’t Beyoncé and still making themselves look like asses on the internet.

And now the weather.

I might not like Beyonce, but I agree with & appreciate everything she stands for. And I do like this post.

(via b0otyclap)

socialjusticekoolaid:

What they won’t show you on CNN tonight: Ferguson residents line a parade of roses down W Florissant, leading to where Mike Brown was taken from this world. #staywoke #powerful #insolidarity 

(via paleskinblackheart)

sixty-nining:

bearsdale:

i-am-i-am-i-am:

I Miss You (Acoustic) - Blink-182

My ears puked blood and overjoy the nanosecond it started.

Well this is a bit perfect

Don’t waste your time on me you’re already the voice inside my head

(Source: the-blink182, via evilgirlforlife)

David Foster Wallace (via vonmoire)

(Source: elliottwith2ts, via vonmoire)

The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.

in sickness and in health (via birdsofafeatherpen)

(via thewinksofgod)

i could live with a life of
adjusting your collar,
ironing down shirts
and our future.
i could live with a life of
kissing the top of your head
while you bandage my scraped knee.
i will love you at 2 am
over sandwiches and
silliness,
sitting cross-legged on the
kitchen floor.
i could live a life with you
of not only dancing in
the rain,
kissing in the rain,
but sharing together the
unspeakable joy
of standing in the midst
of a storm and
each other,
getting drenched, and
laughing out loud
with each other and
God.
and so, we will help
each other hang up the
laundry
which muffles what
our hearts want to say, and
when we don’t feel like
dancing, we will look
at each other and leave
that up to our eyes.
when your heart hurts
because it’s been a long
day and you can’t help
but wonder why you can
bandage people up but
sometimes they never
heal,
i will sit on the floor with
you and hold your hand
and tell you that you
are the strongest person
i know.
and when there is no joy
in the storm
and the rain never seems
to stop, and it soaks
our shoes and makes
us utterly miserable,
like coming down with
a cold in june,
please understand that i am
equally miserable without
your company.
this is what i have to offer you.
i hope you can live with the
weight of my words
and the girl along with them.
i hope you can love me,
not just now,
but when i am old,
and only my soul
is beautiful.
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