Putting on makeup is such a spiritual experience I watch myself go from a 3 to a 9 right in front of my mirror I love it
no, if you are putting on makeup, I don’t care who you are or what you look like, you go from about a 10 to 1
keep talking shit you gonna go from a basic ass 2 to a 6-feet-under
Azra.T “Don’t Wait Three Days to Text First.” (via castletonsnob)
i think it’s cute when someone admits they have a crush on you
i think it’s a fucking miracle
Ke$ha is a perfect example of how the media loves to make intelligent girls seem dumb and bitchy even though they are actually smart and caring. Ke$ha isn’t far from being a feminist icon but the media continues to label her as a dumb drunk party girl.
and Ke$ha is all for loving yourself and equality but she continues to receive harassment from mainstream media. Enough harassment to the point that she developed an eating disorder because of it. She is an example of how horrible and sexist the music industry is.
Sex is not a goddamn performance. Sex should feel as natural as drinking water. It should not require confidence.
Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe. Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.
You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh. It’s not about being “good in bed.” It’s about being happy.
One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.
What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you. Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.
Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be. I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.
I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want. It’s originality. It’s passion. It’s joy. Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.
I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.
“Good in bed,” what. You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you. Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel. This isn’t a test."
This is an answer to so many of the questions I get.