Gastrointestinal5pears - Yooooo

me whenever i have a cold: i can’t remember the last time i could breathe out of my left nostril…it must have been 14 years ago when i was a child on the farm..life was simpler back then….. i remember the sound of the creek over by that big rock.. when papa came home from the town bearing fresh yeast for ma to make bread with, i breathed in the crisp fall air through both nostrils before heading into the kitchen, where i could smell all of our spices 

fuuuuuuckk

Adam Ellis is either a genius horror storyteller or in grave, grave danger.

the only thing men do is lie

me: I have a really diverse music taste me: *listens to the same song on repeat for three weeks*

Forget the friendzone, tell him he’s the son you’ve always wanted.

buzzfeed: men try to put on lip gloss for the first time!!!! the men acting over the top trying to put on the lip gloss, and letting us know they don’t normally do this:

i dont want to know how to read anymore 

Tears fill my eyes as I read the words on my screen. The world seems to stop spinning for the slightest second as I re-read the anonymous message over and over again, gripping on to the hope that the words will magically disappear. But they didn’t. Anon had done it; they’d figured out that the only way to make me take off my hijab was to call my hair ugly. My one weakness.

A tear streams down my left cheek.

Eight years of academy hijab training…wasted. I had to prove this extremely relevant and good-looking anonymous person wrong, I cared too much about what they thought. How could I live my life knowing that there is one person out there who thinks probably my hair is ugly maybe? How could I look myself in the mirror? How could I face my family? My shoulders shook as I cried silently, and my chair squeaked ever so slightly at the vibrations; as if it, too, was crying in sorrow.

It wasn’t until that moment that the second part of the message dawned on me… how would I prove them wrong without breaking the rules? Was it really against the rules? I reach into my hijab and pull out a scroll. At the very top, in cursive jet-black inked letters, the word ‘Rules’ stares back at me. My heart is racing as my eyes frantically read the scroll.

‘Rule #1: no killing people,’ it reads. I let out a whimper. There go my evening plans. 

Suddenly, my eye catches the next words. The scroll is rustling in my trembling hands as I turn my face away, tears spraying out of my eyes like the spit of a white person as they try to justify racism. The cursive words felt more like a curse of words, vivid and refusing to disappear as if I were still staring at them even through my closed eyes.

Rule #2: don’t show ur hair girl it’s ugly lmaooooo