my favorite part of concerts is when the band plays a song everyone knows so everyone’s singing along all out of tune but then the singer stops singing and they point the mic at the crowd and u just hear everyone in the crowd singing the words to the music and u see the smiles on the band members’ faces bc they know people care about their music and everyone’s just so happy who cares about anything else
Does the staff actually ever reply to posts or is that just a myth?
No one will believe you.
have you ever had a friend who is literally like your soul mate but like in a friendship way like you are so compatible and perfect for each other
I was supposed to write ‘amino acids’ and I nearly wrote ‘anime acids’
I hope senpai bonds with me
don’t get it twisted like i respect bugs for being the best they can be in spite of their specific assigned flesh prisons and their ecological significance but they need to stay the fuck away from me
♫ it’s going down, i’m yelling Simba ♫
IT’S BEEN 20 YEARS
WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS BEEN 20 YEARS
oh my god
IT HAS BEGUN
THREAT LEVEL PUMPKIN
THIS LEVEL OF SPOOKY IS TOO INTENSE
hair game level magical girl
this is angelic
hair game stronger than anime protagonist
my personal style is called “i don’t have the money for my preferred aesthetic”
Because my cousin shared 3 rape experiences she had
And on all three occasions
She was wearing sweats and was brutally beaten
So there goes your excuse
That my tight dress was asking for it
It might have escaped your attention,
But I don’t wake up in the mornings,
And put on a skirt thinking,
Will this get me raped?
I don’t put on a tank top hoping,
Maybe this one will.
Because in school, they teach us that our bodies are offensive.
They pull us from classrooms
Demanding if we have longer shorts,
Or even a sweater,
Reminding us that the boys are distracted,
That the boys go wild for a peeking shoulder,
Or the sight of a sun burned thigh,
Because their education is more important than ours.
Because white men in pressed suits,
Expensive watches hanging from their wrists,
Red faces glinting with arrogance,
Have more say over my body than I do.
Because those same men,
Quoting the Bible and fake statistics,
Have never shed blood,
As a twisted sacrifice for being a woman.
Because those same men,
Have never walked the streets,
Fearing for their lives,
Clinging to keys between their fingers like a lifeline
With pepper spray in their bags,
Ready for someone to feel entitled to their body.
Because when a man says no to us,
It is a fault in OUR character.
It is because we are not
Thin, tan, or perky enough for HIM.
Because when WE say no to a man,
Its still a fault in OUR character,
We are the cold, ruthless bitch,
Saying no to the nice guy,
Who offered to buy us a drink,
And Who complimented our hair.
Because a UCSB entitled nine-teen year old boy,
Can record a video
Of his plans to shoot down all the
“Blond bimbos who denied him his right,”
And then do so,
Only to have his actions excused by the media,
Claiming he was depressed,
Instead of admitting that male entitlement is dangerous.
Because I am done being silenced
And I am done being polite.
I am done sitting by
As a country hypocritically cries
Equality and justice
But doesn’t have equal pay
Lets men make decisions for a woman’s body
And blames the victim for the actions of a rapist.
Because our NO won’t be enough one day.
Because I wasn’t asking for it.
Because “Boys Will Be Boys,” is still an excuse
Because “Not All Men Are Like That,” is still a defense.
Because enough blood has been spilled.
Because I am sixteen years old, and I am so afraid, when I shouldn’t have to be.