oh-the-epicness:

notyoubabe:

When I commit myself to someone or something it’s because I want to. Not that I need to. It’s because I choose your existence to be important enough for me to stay around. And I am someone that always wants to be somewhere else. Or to run away and get lost. So if I commit it’s because you make me feel safe and not wanting to be far away.

P.T.

This…

tired-ferrari:

do you ever feel embarrassed to be in your own skin like please just dont look at me i wish i didnt exist sometimes like i want to disappear because i cannot handle being me 

gullibility:

im like 4000% tired

Sick of feeling like I need to compete with other girls

samephonewhothis:

frawgs:

frawgs:

i just saw my cousin on tinder can i die shes gonna know i’m gay

WAIT THAT MEANS

image

straightboyfriend:

if you are mean to lesbians or bi ladies i will take out my large & dangerous rock & kill you with it

64bitwar:

this is stomp dog it shows up to stomp away sadness

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theconqueeror:

ht-11:

What’s wrong with texting first and replying to a text immediately? what’s wrong with calling and telling them you miss them? What’s wrong with showing you care? Take down your pride a notch and be genuine with your feelings.

2019 we get rid of these ridiculous “unwritten” rules just talk to people if you wanna talk to them!

lord-kitschener:

harokissmile:

ksteeno:

spoookyscary:

After succumbing to a fever of some sort in 1705, Irish woman Margorie McCall was hastily buried to prevent the spread of whatever had done her in. Margorie was buried with a valuable ring, which her husband had been unable to remove due to swelling. This made her an even better target for body snatchers, who could cash in on both the corpse and the ring.

The evening after Margorie was buried, before the soil had even settled, the grave-robbers showed up and started digging. Unable to pry the ring off the finger, they decided to cut the finger off. As soon as blood was drawn, Margorie awoke from her coma, sat straight up and screamed.

The fate of the grave-robbers remains unknown. One story says the men dropped dead on the spot, while another claims they fled and never returned to their chosen profession.

Margorie climbed out of the hole and made her way back to her home.

Her husband John, a doctor, was at home with the children when he heard a knock at the door. He told the children, “If your mother were still alive, I’d swear that was her knock.”

When he opened the door to find his wife standing there, dressed in her burial clothes, blood dripping from her finger but very much alive, he dropped dead to the floor. He was buried in the plot Margorie had vacated.

Margorie went on to re-marry and have several children. When she did finally die, she was returned to Shankill Cemetery in Lurgan, Ireland, where her gravestone still stands. It bears the inscription “Lived Once, Buried Twice.”

what did i just read

Irish women are strong as fuck

“I lived, bitch” irl

targent:

unrelatableuserboxes:

your bed is probably as happy to see you as you are to see it. ‘here comes the warmth slab’ it thinks

wrong it thinks “god hope this dipshit doesnt spill beans all over me again who tf eats beans in bed”

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Pohroro