Majestic Unicorns

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I'm Nadine (:
19/single/USA
I like zombies, poetry, and art.
(and lots of other shit too)
laninjapanama:

andante-ace:

kitpocket:

airbrush clouds cause Im lazy

OH NO THAT’S REALLY CUTE

THEY GAVE HIM VITILIGO!!!!!!

laninjapanama:

andante-ace:

kitpocket:

airbrush clouds cause Im lazy

OH NO THAT’S REALLY CUTE

THEY GAVE HIM VITILIGO!!!!!!

(via harlotts)

— 23 hours ago with 64880 notes
"

Charlie Sheen smokes crack live in a web-chat and they make him the highest paid actor on television.

An 18-year-old black person smokes a blunt and he is unfit to live.

I see you white power.

"

Comedian Greg Blackshear (via sonofbaldwin)

Not to mention Rob Ford still being allowed to hold office after admitting to a crack addiction and alcoholism, tackling a representative, etc.

(via browngirlblues)

(via ready-to-let-go)

— 23 hours ago with 27403 notes
"Skipping one meal is not foundation,
faking a suicide attempt is not eyeshadow,
getting nervous and calling it anxiety is not eyeliner,
and being sad and calling it depression is not lipstick.
Mental illness is not makeup.
You cannot just put it on and take it off at will,
to make people look at you differently,
or treat you better.
And believe me,
if you could just put it on and take it off,
I’d be cleansing every last inch of my skin."
Pretending to Suffer isn’t Trendy (via mutilatedmemories)

(Source: mutilatedmemories, via blo-odred)

— 3 days ago with 5347 notes
"

If you called me pretty I would’ve brushed my hair
longer so I could listen to you say it again.
I would have taken a few extra minutes
to make sure my eyeliner looked spectacular—
ripped the air right out of you til your bones
were bruised and I’d know I succeeded
when you looked at me, hand on your chest,
open-mouthed, frozen. Just like that. Imagine that.

It was this sick habit of needing you to tell me
I was pretty in order to consider myself worthy
of the word.

If you told me I was brave, all of a sudden
I wasn’t afraid to skydive. My bones tickled
to the thought of falling, to the ground thousands
of feet below me, a parachute my only hope
of not shattering.

Even, if you told me you liked the sound
chandeliers made when they burst against floor,
loved that even in smithereens they still
looked beautiful—like glitter scattered
across your dining room floor—
I might not have opened my parachute.
I might have let myself explode against cold,
lifeless pavement, in hopes you would walk by
and say, ‘My God, isn’t she stunning?
Have you ever witnessed anything brighter?’

Let’s skip the parts where you tried to tame
me, tried to change me, tried to make me your
definition of better, tried to throw out
the pieces of me that painted you angry-red
like you had stood out in the sun all afternoon.

Tell me I’m pretty. Brave. One of a kind.
Too quiet. Fragile. Defensive. Say my name
like you’re positive that’s who I am, but know
I’m the light I followed to where I am today.
Tell me I ‘feel too much’, tell me
anything, but I can no longer hear your voice
underneath the roaring of my flames.

It took me too long to realize I was the sun
and I didn’t need you to tell me I was burning
bright, to see you were sunburnt all over.

"
— 3 days ago with 121 notes
"i.
my uncle was an addict and he kept me scared straight.
i watched my mother bail him out and my grandmother take him in.
i watched the cracks spread in our blown-glass family like spiderwebs.
i watched everyone around him break.
i swore off everything.
i promised myself i’d never be like that.
ii.

for some reason, i still let myself look at her like she’s the only one in the room.

iii.

he hid it well.
kept himself looking nice,
acted like he was above it all.
iv.

i don’t let myself say her name in the voice my uncle used the only time i heard him say the word “cocaine”.

v.
he had been clean for eight months when he died of heart failure.
he was 43.
my relatives spoke in hushed whispers,
said that his heart didn’t want to beat without those drugs anymore.
i didn’t understand then,
but i do now.
vi.
basically what i’m saying here is that i think i love her again."
addiction (via poppyflowerpoetry)
— 3 days ago with 143 notes
"It has been so long
since I have been
touched by someone
who looks at me as
if there is something
to see."
i could have walked all night, Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)
— 4 days ago with 1504 notes