I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.

-- Isaac Marion (via vodkaquiet)

The best part of a relationship is getting to call the person, or lay down next to them, and tell them all the crazy things that happened to you all day long. In the end that’s what it’s about. It’s not about sex, it’s not about the money they give you, it’s not about how good looking they are, it’s about them listening to you talk for hours and hours and hours, about stupid shit that doesn’t matter.

-- Tegan Quin (via perfect)




Jessica Rey presents the history of the evolution of the swimsuit including the origins of its design, how it has changed overtime and the post-feminist association of the bikini symbolizing female empowerment. She refers to neuro-scientific studies revealing how male brains react to images of scantily clad women versus images of women deemed modest and what the implications of the results are for women in society.

(Note: As the OP, I disagree with Rey’s approach to putting the onus on women to alter ourselves rather than to alter the male perception of women – brain wiring has plenty to do with socialization and if we worked against the culture that fuels men’s objectification of women, women’s clothing choices would matter far less in terms of how men perceive us and determine how to interact with us).

Jessica Rey - The Evolution of the Swim Suit

bolding mine

I often wonder
if I ever cross your mind
around the same time
you’re crossing mine
and if we just keep
missing each other
on the way out.

-- ||  Maza-Dohta (via larmoyante)



I, for one, welcome our future Indian-Chinese lesbian cyborg president.


I’ve seen a lot of people refer to depression as a black hole draining their energy, creativity, love, but it’s never been like that for me.

For me depression is white.
It rolls in like a fog.
The things I want to do, the people I want to talk to become very distant.
My head gets full of fog as well, until I have nothing to say to anyone.
My life becomes a series of blank pages & guilt.

Some days are worse than others.
Some days are exciting & bright.
But the fog is always there around the edges.
I’m not trying to change the weather.
I’m just trying to live with it.

In a way, you are poetry material. You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out.

-- Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena (via mashamorevna)