Radioacidity

Jess / 18 / ♀ / ♏

Marketing major, French/Art minor, University of Arizona. Loves country music, cats, home-improvement shows, and stuff with birds on it.


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Can I just take a moment to say that BRAGGING ABOUT BEING SO MUCH BETTER THAN A STEREOTYPICAL MALE BECAUSE YOU “WEAR YOUR HEART ON YOUR SLEEVE” AND DONT “BELITTLE YOUR COMPETITION” ACTUALLY DOESNT MAKE YOU BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE BECAUSE YOURE STILL BEING PRESUMPTUOUS AND COCKY AND AN ASSHOLE BYE

championofazura:

Girls, romanticize yourselves. You are a queen. You are a warrior. You are an enchantress. You are a mermaid. You are a goddess. You are all of these things and more, you are the stuff of fairytales. 

(Source: sapphiology, via healingdoesntcomequickly)

slick-psycho:

Pompadour.

Flawless

slick-psycho:

Pompadour.

Flawless

(via iamthezombie)

officialbrucespringsteen:

hey isnt that jonas brother a disney kid

and now he’s half naked everywhere

and everyone is admiring him for growing up so nicely

wasnt miley cyrus a disney kid too

and she was half naked everywhere

and everyone freaked their fuckin shit

(via fullbodiedlovin)

“It’s just a word.
This is what you told me,
and what you’ll keep telling everyone else.
It comes out of your mouth so easily,
rolls off of your tongue so quickly.
It makes it almost too hard to believe
that this is the same mouth
that couldn’t say “love” effortlessly.
Because “you can’t say it,
unless you mean it.”
I wonder what’s the difference.
These are both four letter words, aren’t they?
You’re probably thinking this is a word
that’s been all liquored up.
Wouldn’t say no.
Or a word that’s been held down too long,
it has already forgotten
what it stands for.
Couldn’t say no.
It’s just a word.
Already undressed of all its meaning,
it’s just waiting for you to use it.
It’s just a word.
Wouldn’t say no, couldn’t say no.
I wonder if that’s also what happened
to my “Stop”s and “No”s.
If they were also undressed of all their meaning.
If they were too defeated to pick up the pieces
and put them back on.
If they’ve forgotten what they stand for.
These are also just words.
I wonder if I’ll ever say it when I mean it.
If I’ll ever convince them,
that it was not their fault.
That words have meanings.
It was not their fault,
that some people refuse to listen.
It comes out of your mouth easily,
rolls off of your tongue so quickly.
It’s just a word.
These are also just words.
They don’t come out of my mouth easily.
They don’t roll off of my tongue quickly.
It was never just a word.”

—   four letter word (via friscoflush)

This is amazing

(via friscoflush)

mollymimieux:

Imagine that one day the whole world would look like this.

(Source: boredpanda.com, via stardust-bones28)

my-dear-moon:

 Photographer: JBM Weddings

my-dear-moon:

 Photographer: JBM Weddings

You will be out with friends
when the news of her existence
will be accidentally spilled all over
your bar stool. Respond calmly
as if it was only a change in weather,
a punch line you saw coming.
After your fourth shot of cheap liquor,
leave the image of him kissing another woman
in the toilet.

In the morning, her name will be
in every headline: car crash, robbery, flood.
When he calls you, ignore the hundreds of ropes
untangling themselves in your stomach.
You are the best friend again. He invites
you over for dinner and you say yes
too easily. Remind yourself this isn’t special,
it’s only dinner, everyone has to eat.
When he greets you at the door, do not think
for one second you are the reason
he wore cologne tonight.

In his kitchen, he will hand-feed you
a piece of red pepper. His laugh
will be low and warm and it will make you
feel like candlelight. Do not think this is special.
Do not count on your fingers the number
of freckles you could kiss too easily.
Try to think of pilot lights and olive oil,
not everything you have ever loved about him,
or it will suddenly feel boiling and possible
and so close. You will find her bobby pins
laying innocently on his bathroom sink.
Her bobby pins. They look like the wiry legs
of spiders, splinters of her undressing
in his bed. Do not say anything.
Think of stealing them, wearing them
home in your hair. When he hugs you goodbye,
let him kiss you on the forehead.
Settle for target practice.

At home, you will picture her across town
pressing her fingers into his back
like wet cement. You will wonder
if she looks like you, if you are two bedrooms
in the same house. Did he fall for her features
like rearranged furniture? When he kisses her,
does she taste like wet paint?

You will want to call him.
You will go as far as holding the phone
in your hand, imagine telling him
unimaginable things like you are always
ticking inside of me and I dream of you
more often than I don’t.
My body is a dead language
and you pronounce
each word perfectly.

Do not call him.
Fall asleep to the hum of the VCR.
She must make him happy.
She must be
She must be his favorite place in Minneapolis.
You are a souvenir shop, where he goes
to remember how much people miss him
when he is gone.

—   

Sierra DeMulder, Unrequited Love Poem (via waschbar)

god I love this. ow.

(Source: harold-christ-archive, via radioacidity)

I originally posted this in January of 2013, shortly after breaking up with my ex of four months, the first person I ever had sex with, who dumped me over text message. I honestly believed that this was true. I had no concept. No idea. Dang.
radioacidity:

note to jessica: learn this.

1.5 years later. still learning it.

radioacidity:

note to jessica: learn this.

1.5 years later. still learning it.

anamorphosis-and-isolate:

― Liv & Ingmar (2012)"Dare to let it hurt…and dare to let it feel good."

anamorphosis-and-isolate:

― Liv & Ingmar (2012)
"Dare to let it hurt…and dare to let it feel good."