Keeping romance alive is a subtle art.
This is so cute, haha. And since when is “egg” an insult ?
I absolutely LOVE lemonades and fresh fruit. I went to this wonderful cafe, Ms. Dahlia’s Cafe, with one of my best friends in Brooklyn. I had the best cucumber lemonade in life! I immediately went on the hunt to find a recipe. in my search, I came across a great blog, A Beautiful Mess, that has some amazing recipes for lemonades. I had to share. So here you go, enjoy, and I WILL POST MY OWN CREATIONS…after the snow melts.
I wanna be a mother so bad :(
"I do not need someone to complete me
but if you wanted to
we could walk next to each other
into whatever is coming next."
not being cuddled currently which is weird, unideal, bad
I need to be cuddled on a regular basis :(
"The idea that sex is something a woman gives a man, and she loses something when she does that, which again for me is nonsense. I want us to raise girls differently where boys and girls start to see sexuality as something that they own, rather than something that a boy takes from a girl."
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (NPR)
Fuck yeah. I saw her speech and although I disliked a few things, I mostly agree. Sex is not a gift and consent is not a one party act. Sex is a shared experience that everyone must consent to participating in.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do."
It’s not that I don’t love you. (via exoticwild)