Brittanee Nicole Brand."I'm a smart, strong, sensual woman." Love me, hate me, Idgaf 💁😘

dorkstrider:

moment of silence for those people who followed me since i started this blog

they have seen things i am not proud of

aflockofseagulls:

let’s play a game called “how much of this homework can i do in school tomorrow”

youngblackandvegan:

the older i get

the more i realize the value of privacy

of cultivating your circle and only letting certain people in

you can be open, honest, and real while still understanding not everyone deserves a seat at the table of your life

apatheticghost:

im just sad and lonely and bad at math

doyouwannabuildasnowman:

invanity-wetrust:

ticklesthesomething:

geminihoneybee:

olitwist:

toluicacid:

pink-nation-xoxo:

disney-rapunzel-merida-vanellope:

Let’s give a moment to those mothers that can not have a child…

and to the husbands that stick by their wives regardless of wether they can have a child

This was the most realistic Disney movie ever.

yeah the part where the house flies off due to a bunch of balloons was very realistic 



Actually they consulted an architect about how many balloons exactly it would take to do that to a house of that exact size and weight. They calculated that moment using a physics engine and took everything into account. Unless a professional architect as well as all of the physics professors who put their effort into that highly advanced physics engine are wrong, that take off was actually very doable and scientifically accurate.

GET WRECKED SON

It just got better

saintlukas:

matchless:

*prays that I instantly become hot at 18*

*ok let’s shoot for 21*

A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.

Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)

When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.

Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.

Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.

Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.

Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.

— 'My Perfume Doubles As Mace,' theappleppielifestyle. (via queenofeden)

I’m afraid I’ll never finish college. I’m afraid I’ll finish college with student loans I can never pay back. I’m afraid I’ll get a degree and won’t be able to find a job in that field. I’m afraid I’ll get a degree, get the job I dreamed of, and hate it.

— A Mental Illness Happy Hour listener whose list of fears matches mine four for four. Glad I’m not the only one.
(via bl-ossomed)

Literally me

merchant-shipss:

humans-of-pdx:

"Five years ago I was working and going to college and I had a girlfriend. But I didn’t know if I liked college and I didn’t know if I loved my girlfriend and I knew I definitely didn’t like my job. I started thinking maybe I didn’t want all these things that most people don’t even question, they just do. So I up and left and started couch surfing and traveling. You know, people on the streets have a bad reputation, and yes, there are a lot of druggies, but I want people to know that’s not the case with everyone who’s homeless. I’m going back to school in the fall, and I’ll be responsible for bills and all that, but I’ve been doing what I want to do for the past five years, being free.”

the first bit is literally me in my first year of college ahahha
shutupimscrolling:

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