Romanticisation of Mental Illness, Kelsey Weaver
This really hit me hard jesus christ.
people knowing that i’ve cried and people seeing me cry are two different things like i don’t care if people know i’ve cried because like everybody cries but when it comes to people actually being there and seeing me cry in the moment??? no. nope. nah. no thanks. i’m good. no thank you. let’s not
i hate when you voluntarily tell your parents some information about your life because you think you can trust them and then they bitch at you for it like congrats you have guaranteed that i will never tell you anything ever again
order a fucking pizza with me and watch a fucking shitty film with me and play with my fucking hair and wear my fucking tees to bed and fall asleep in my fucking arms you fucking fuck
avril lavigne is 29 that’s too fucking old to be goin through a weaboo phase
No sympathy for rapists, no sympathy for abusers, no sympathy for those who side with them. No excuses for their behavior, no justifications, no exceptions.
peter parker’s job is literally selling his selfies to the daily bugle