Pushing Up Daisies




infernoxuchiha:

blk0912:

boredandmoist:

This time last year I was unemployed, broke, and suicidal.

Today, I just got the keys to my first house.

Give it time.

Needed this today

Get em

(via yes-n0-maybe)

mitten:

calling me ugly isn’t even an insult because i know already

(Source: femalesbelike, via tatteredghost)

boomsticks-and-firewater:

puellamagidolaon:

lovrdlogic:

When you crack your knuckles you hurt the skeleton inside you

Good, the skeleton needs to know that I am the alpha and I am in control.

Break your own bones to establish dominance over skeleton.

(Source: platwaifu, via tyleroakley)

chill-ip:

Another reason why you shouldn’t skip leg day
discolor3d:

Excerpt from ‘Zana’ a collaboration book project by Michael Faudet and Lang Leav.
shh-i-self-harm-too:

I’m usually not one to post pictures of self harm and I certainly do not promote it in any way.
I feel as if this is something I need to do. I need to stress to all of you the reasons to never pick up that blade, or the reason to stop. I need you to realise that self harm is a horrible coping mechanism.
I was in year 7 when I first cut myself. Before then I had self harmed in other ways, like hair pulling and scalp picking but it was nothing which left a visible mark on my body. Despite the instant release of cutting, I made a promise to myself that I would never do it again. I was ashamed. It felt wrong. I knew it was wrong.
This promise was again broken. Cutting became a regular escape for me. Not only was it a distraction but it released my problems, a sense of calm always washed over me after my blood seeped from my wrists.
Time passed and I no longer was ashamed after cutting. It felt right, as strange as that sounds.
People found out and it was swept under the rug. I moved to my thighs, a place easier to hide. After that I started alternating between the places on my body. Hips, forearms, ankles, thighs, above my elbow. They are now places that have varying degrees of scarring on them. I can’t decide what’s worse; my right thigh, or my right arm.
I never used to be disgusted by my scars. Don’t get me wrong though. I definitely disliked them but back then it was something I could live with. Now, looking at my body… It almost makes me weep. I have ruined my body. It’s truly disgusting. Who could possibly love someone with their pain clearly written on their skin?
I don’t ever think I’ll be happy with my body. Yes, scars fade but they will never disappear. And anyway, it could take years for all my scars to fade. You can clearly see the big, purple scar (although the light is on it so it doesn’t look all that bad). It has been like that for almost 8 months. It will certainly take years to fade.
Scarring is only one of the countless reasons to not self harm. I’m not going to explain them all as it would take me a very long while.
Eventually it’s all going to catch up to you. No one can go on injuring themselves each time they need the release. Pushing it aside temporarily will not help you permanently.
This post is me simply trying to give you a wake up call. I’m focusing on the scarring side of this. It will ruin your life. It might not seem like it now but it will. You will hate looking at the marks left on your body as a constant reminder of your suffering. You will hate your body. I repeat, you will hate your body.
Stop now before it gets any worse. Please, stop. I don’t want you to hate your body. I want you to love your body. I want you to love everything about yourself. I want you to love your life and self harming does not achieve that.

chinese-zeus:

lollipops are so weird youre literally swallowing your own flavored saliva

(via hopeforthebestplanfortheworst)

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