Nostalgia Bomber Jacket
According to applechan:
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"Decades into the future, I'll open my windows, to hear the soft sound of panpipes gently drifting on the morning air. In the distance, I'll see two baby goats and their horned shepherd with a hat of entrails who will disappear into the morning mist after I spot her. I will see tumblr user Sakapet."

c-adaverine:

Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan on November 16, 1581

Ilya Repin

This painting depicts the historical 16th century story of Ivan the Terrible mortally wounding his son in Ivan in a fit of rage. By far the most psychologically intense of Repin’s paintings, the Emperor’s face is fraught with terror, as his son lay quietly dying in his arms, blood dripping down the side of his face.

85,583 notes nightmarishthings c-adaverine #this is one of my favorites #blood #art

hahaaaa i have to learn to lunch alone these people think I’m crazy and now they didn’t tell me they were gong to eat outside so they saw me buy food and didn;t say anything and left haaaaa haa

#and then the rain fell on them #i'm a shitty person #now to relearn what I unlearned damn again

As women, when we’re children we’re taught to enter the world with big hearts. Blooming hearts. Hearts bigger than our damn fists. We are taught to forgive - constantly - as opposed to what young boys are taught: Revenge, to get ‘even.’ Our empathy is constantly made appeals to, often demanded for. If we refuse to show kindness, we are reprimanded. We are not good women if we do not crush our bones to make more space for the world, if we do not spread our entire skin over rocks for others to tread on, if we do not kill ourselves in every meaning of the word in the process of making it cozy for everyone else. It is the heat generated by the burning of our bodies with which the world keeps warm. We are taught to sacrifice so much for so little. This is the general principle all over the world.

By the time we are young women, we are tired. Most of us are drained. Some of us enter a lock of silence because of that lethargy. Some of us lash out. When I think of that big, blooming heart we once had, it looks shriveled and worn out now. When I was teaching, I had a young student named Mariam. She was only 11 years old. Some boy pushed her around in class, called her names, broke her spirit for the day. We were sitting under a chestnut tree on a field trip and she asked me if a boy ever hurt me. I told her many did and I destroyed them one by one. I think that’s the first time she ever heard the word ‘destroyed.’ We rarely teach our girls to fight back for the right reasons.

Take up more space as a woman. Take up more time. Take your time. You are taught to hide, censor, move about without messing up decorum for a man’s comfort. Whether it’s said or not, you’re taught balance. Forget that. Displease. Disappoint. Destroy. Be loud, be righteous, be messy. Mess up and it’s fine – you are learning to unlearn. Do not see yourself like glass. Like you could get dirty and clean. You are flesh. You are not constant. You change. Society teaches women to maintain balance and that robs us of our volatility. Our mercurial hearts. Calm and chaos. Love only when needed; preserve otherwise.

Do not be a moth near the light; be the light itself. Do not let a man’s ocean-big ego swallow you up. Know what you want. Ask yourself first. Decide your own pace. Decide your own path. Be cruel when needed. Be gentle only when needed. Collapse and then re-construct. When someone says you are being obscene, say yes I am. When they say you are being wrong, say yes I am. When they say you are being selfish, say yes I am. Why shouldn’t I be? How do you expect a woman to stand on her two feet if you keep striking her at the ankles.

There are multiple lessons we must teach our young girls so that they render themselves their own pillars instead of keeping male approval as the focal point of their lives. It is so important to state your feelings of inconvenience as a woman. We are instructed to tailor ourselves and our discomfort - constantly told that we are ‘whining’ and ‘nagging’ and ‘complaining too much.’ That kind of silence is horribly violent, that kind of insistence upon uniformly nodding in agreement to your own despair, and smiling emptily so no man is ever uncomfortable around us. Male-entitlement dictates a woman’s silence. If we could see the mimetic model of the erasure of a woman’s voice, it would be an incredibly bloody sight.

On a breezy July night, my mother and I were sleeping under the open sky. Before dozing off, I told her that I think there is a special place in heaven where all wounded women bury their broken hearts and their hearts grow into trees that only give fruit to the good and poison to the bad. She smiled and said Ameen. Then she closed her eyes.

A Woman of War by Mehreen Kasana (via pbnpineapples)
27,736 notes wheretheseaandskymeet pbnpineapples
16 notes fuckedupknitting fuckedupknitting

ssoja:

I started my third moleskine sketchbook a year ago, and well, these are all the sketches I made in one year…

I think I definitely need more free time ! `___`

2,189 notes ssoja ssoja #this is beautiful

coveredinsnow-:

ilovemaydayparade69:

rubee:

"why dont you just give him a chance"

idk because im not physically or mentally attracted to him and ‘but he likes you’ or ‘but hes really nice’ isnt going to change the fact that im not interested

Damn, I don’t think women know how much that really hurts

image

826,291 notes guygardios rubee
30 notes russian-and-soviet-cinema russian-and-soviet-cinema
“And I’m always like that, always like that. Always injuring myself with my politeness. I’m always injuring myself like that.”
—Fyodor Dostoevsky, from The Brothers Karamazov (via violentwavesofemotion)
2,389 notes crocordile violentwavesofemotion

OCs

These last days I´ve experienced a sudden need to see my old OCs, sit on my desk and try to draw them again. Wonder how they would come out this time?

1 note

skellyscoo:

When the beat of a song is good, but the lyrics are trash:

image

26,021 notes kashuan skellyscoo #*************************************************************************************************************************muse***************