Are you fucking kidding me. Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME. Wow. I get burned out of the only friendship I ever wanted to keep because of you and you never apologized, not once in the three years since it happened and you are just such a piece of fucking work that after lying to me and letting then treat me like I was literally nothing, as if I didn’t exist RIGHT IN FRONT of your fucking face, on the opposite side of a door. You sat and willingly allowed them to belittle my existence and gave me a text message bullshit “apology” that has never meant anything to me, but I let it go because you’re my sister and I was tired of being so heartbroken. Here we are 3 years later and you seriously still fucking talk to her? You honestly think its okay? And you honestly thought I wouldn’t know? I never believed for a second that you wouldn’t talk, but to just see it so blatant and open I am enraged. Fuck you. I already knew I couldn’t forgive but you can’t even let me have the option to forget it. You are a selfish, self revolved bitch and if we didn’t share blood I would forget you ever happened. If we didn’t share blood it never would have happened. Fuck you.
victoria’s secret is pulling a “love your body” marketing campaign
isn’t that just frickin cute?
the underwear company that is famous for irresponsibly reinforcing unrealistic and harmful expectations of people’s bodies. the same company that only stocks clothing, bras, and underwear so long as you fall within their range of *acceptable* body sizes. the same company that only uses models of a very specific height, weight, hair style, facial structure, and breast size.
the last thing any of their shitty advertising has ever told me is that i should “love my body”.
*yes, it is a promo for the “body” bras - and they are appropriating body positive marketing to sell them.
i wish, i wish he’d go away
Oh god :(
“Tchaikovsky today, huh?”
“Violin Concerto, D-Major. One of your favourites.”
“You’re usually playing Bach.”
“I felt a change in pace wouldn’t disrupt the continuum.”
“It doesn’t really matter.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because you’re not playing at all.”
The song stops; the sociopath stills.
John blinks, and the ghost is gone without a trace; the song over without a flourish. Silence suddenly settles in the flat as though it had been waiting all along. He feels inconsolably lost without the mirage and the specter’s song.
After all, a fake, he sadly supposes, is better than nothing at all.
You should never feel ashamed about what and who you are
Spencer Hart show - backstage
this photoset is entitled Martin Freeman Needs to Fucking Stop
I don’t see how he’s allowed to get away with any of this shit