wish you were (t)here

a change is going to come


samantha hughes

clementinehas decided it is…

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confessions of a sick sook.

[blaze edwards]

olivia lucia

Tick any of these boxes:


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My lonesome cat by closer21 on Flickr.

we’re gazing out the window at the world…

(via almostlikeadream)

[by charlotte guest]

You feel something poking into your back, and not in a sexy way.

It’s mother’s finger. She says you’re as round as Arthur’s table. You look like the handle piece of an umbrella.

Good posture is everywhere, like a desirable rash. Like you were the only baby born with a pipe-cleaner spine and C-cup shoulder blades.

Sexy words like “hump” and “curves” suddenly refer to your slouch, the way back-less dresses accentuate your back-full body, the way it juts out like the rear end of question mark.

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image: ingrid wang

text: elizabeth isak

You are the ghost that reappears, perhaps at Christmas or at birthdays or just on a Friday morning on the way to work. Something reminds me of you and I pause. Your name comes up, simply in casual conversation and I can feel the mood change and the concerned looks thrown my way.

Someone hushes the speaker and whispers a cautionary sidenote. It’s alright, you can scream it if you like – I can hear you anyway. We tiptoe around this, pretending it doesn’t exist, but it happened.

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