Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.
my favorite part about high fashion is the complete non sexualization of breasts. like in any other situation besides breast feeding woman’s breasts are seen as sexual objects, but in high fashion it isn’t. it isn’t meant for the male gaze, a see through top isn’t for what’s underneath but simply the aesthetic of the look. I’m not really sure how to explain it but it makes me very happy to see
it genuinely baffles me when people say 80s fashion was ugly as if early 00s fashion wasn’t the greatest crime against humanity committed on historical record
my best friend is an atheist, but whenever she is comforting me with something in my life she uses examples of God to help me because she knows it makes me feel better, and vice versa, when i comfort her i never bring up God because i respect that it’s not something that helps or works for her
i feel like this is a model of how the world should work
that is perfect
Don’t mix up the cold hard facts
Lust isn’t love
And love isn’t just lust
The lifestyle of sex, drugs, and alcohol
Isn’t a game
It’s a trick
Don’t let it learn your name
And while you’re at it
Put down that bottle
Because drinking
Ha, it just makes you a model
Of a youngling
Too young to know better
That drinking is a sure setter
To a bad life so here it goes
The image of cool with a beer is a joke
And in the end you’re just a fool
And let me promise you one thing for sure
Drinking and drugs isn’t the cure
To any problem you might have
At home or at school
It isn’t the tool
Or the solution
So stop the pollution
Of your mind and your soul
You’re better than that
Take my word for it
Been there
Done that
You name it
I did it
I lived it
Sure the nights fun
The laughs and the smiles
But in the morning
The regrets go on for miles
So back to the lesson at hand
Take a stand
And turn back now
Because the memories of it all
Are just going to bring you down
Now, I don’t mean to preach
But I practice what I preach
Take my word on that
And now look back at
All the times you’ve hated yourself
Who’d you turn to?
Who’d you ask for help?
Did you ask at all
Or did you bottle it up
Until you could spit it up
On a Friday night
After a party
Or a friends
Where your problems disappeared?
I can guarantee you
Those problems are still there
But don’t lose hope
The answer is clear
Turn to the Lord
For all the help you need
And never believe you’re a lost seed
You’re loved and wanted
I swear on all things holy
Now do me a favor
Turn to God
Vent to him
Ask him
Tell him
He’s here to help
And he hates to see you whelp
He saved my life
And he can save yours too
So now that you know what to do
Do it
Don’t just sit
And think about all the wrongs you’ve done
Turn your life around
Face up
And kneel down
Close your eyes
And talk to your father
He wants to see you happy
It isn’t a bother
So there’s the lesson
Now it’s your turn
Go out and apply it
To everything you do
And in lieu of a drug or a drink
Pray and sink
Into the love the Lord gives.
Bulimia isn’t a long haired pretty girl bending over a toilet with a tragically beautiful face on. It’s a puffed miserable face with vomit dripping from it’s chin and a fucking nose bleed. Anorexia isn’t a slim figure shyly refusing a cupcake. It’s hair growing over your freezing malnourished body. Depression isn’t a model with running mascara staring into the sunset. It’s staring at the fucking ceiling at 4 in the morning with burning eyes because you can’t even find the motivation to close them. Self harm isn’t lovely boys kissing your arms telling you you’re still beautiful. It’s nasty fucking scars that will be there forever and showers that sting. Panic attacks aren’t burying your face into your lovers chest and them telling you everything will be okay. It’s feeling out of control and like oxygen has been taken from you. Mental illnesses aren’t beautiful. They don’t make you special and don’t make people suddenly care about you. They’re monsters that destroy lives. So stop taking them lightly and promoting them to impressionable teenagers on the damn internet.
I’ve never seen a plus-size male model
Woah.
Well
This is a smack in my face
Give me $10 000 and leave me alone in a Nike store!
I prefer at Harrods☺️
A man who is truly interested in a woman will find an endless number of reasons why he must see her. A man who is just playing around–or confused about his own feelings–will find an endless number of excuses why he didn’t show up.
thatsadshovel