what's under my bed

Twenty-One. Female. Poet. Monster in disguise.

cosmic-nine-year-old:

lehrastar:

lehrastar:

wellheyproductions:

the-dark-harlequin:

wandering-scarecrow:

jimfear138:

image

No, Jim. No kidding. I’m gunna murder them. I’m going to be incarcerated for mass murder, but I’m going to end these fucks.

I have a perfect spot to hide the bodies. Also, I’ll gladly bail you out while you flee the country.

I’m already going to hell, what’s a few more mortal sins on my hands. 

They do not know what they have brought forth…. This is gonna be messy.

You wanna know what would be interesting actually? Making a human chain incircling Mr. Williams and his grieving family, we’ll surround the ENTIRE graveyard if we have to and block out those signs, so they know he was a very dearly loved and a forever missed man and send a message to those Westboro BASTARDS who dare say they are riteous men that no one will stand for them any longer. We will build bigger signs so that his family won’t have to lay eyes on words of hate but instead words of love and meaning, pictures on every single picket of ours of Mr. Williams and his career, of him smiling with only hearts and flowers on each sign. Make them bigger and higher so that we drown out the voices of those who dare turn such a sad event into a monetary opporunity. 

Make it so that not a single sign of the Westboro church can ever be seen by his family so they can have a peaceful last goodbye to such a wonderful human being. One who cared so much about others and taught us so much about how we needed to live life and enjoy it while we could. We’ll have a banner that will have everyone’s favorite quotes written on every corner and every edge. We will show exactly just how much we loved and respected such a man how much we appreciated him, and just how much the world will miss him. Make it so that that church doesn’t have a voice to share or a soapbox to stand on.

We will have a chain of people at the backs of those with the picket signs who will hold hands and allow NOT A SINGLE BIT OF THEIR CHURCH PROPAGANDA TO PASS! They can do nothing against us. We will be the stronger and louder voice. We will scream and shout above their hate so that Mr. Williams may be put to a well deserved peaceful rest.

This actually happened at the funeral of Matthew Shepard, a gay man who was killed in 1998 in Laramie. Westboro Baptist Church picketed his funeral, but his friends dressed up in white robes and massive angel wings to block them out. When Fred Phelps attempted to talk about Matthew’s sins and his deserved death, they began to sing Hallelujah above Phelps and drowned him out so they could allow people to mourn Matthew in peace. I think that we should do the same thing. Sing words of love and loss over Westboro’s hatred, rather than scream back. Show love on a day where it is needed most.

(via the-fault-in-our-assbutt)

I just wanna not be sad when little things happen in every day life.

Like driving down the highway at night in the pouring fucking rain with my best friend, feeling very happy, listening to the radio, and “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” comes on and suddenly I just crumble inside because all I want is for her to be you and for it to be ten months ago, on THAT highway, in THAT pouring fucking rain and to have the nervous happy butterflies of something new instead of the stabbing twisting in my gut of something that is done.

I just don’t want tiny, insignificant things all day every day to remind me of what I’ve lost. But they do. They fucking do all the time.

h0odrich:

I also love how girls start shit talking off like ‘okay so Nicole like I love her, I adore her, she’s great and awesome and beautiful but like….’

(via the-fault-in-our-assbutt)

Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. I only just heard the sad, sad news of Robin Williams’s death. My wife sent me a message to tell me he had died, and, when I asked her what he died from, she told me something that nobody in the news seems to be talking about.

When people die from cancer, their cause of death can be various horrible things – seizure, stroke, pneumonia – and when someone dies after battling cancer, and people ask “How did they die?”, you never hear anyone say “pulmonary embolism”, the answer is always “cancer”. A Pulmonary Embolism can be the final cause of death with some cancers, but when a friend of mine died from cancer, he died from cancer. That was it. And when I asked my wife what Robin Williams died from, she, very wisely, replied “Depression”.

The word “suicide” gives many people the impression that “it was his own decision,” or “he chose to die, whereas most people with cancer fight to live.” And, because Depression is still such a misunderstood condition, you can hardly blame people for not really understanding. Just a quick search on Twitter will show how many people have little sympathy for those who commit suicide…

But, just as a Pulmonary Embolism is a fatal symptom of cancer, suicide is a fatal symptom of Depression. Depression is an illness, not a choice of lifestyle. You can’t just “cheer up” with depression, just as you can’t choose not to have cancer. When someone commits suicide as a result of Depression, they die from Depression – an illness that kills millions each year. It is hard to know exactly how many people actually die from Depression each year because the figures and statistics only seem to show how many people die from “suicide” each year (and you don’t necessarily have to suffer Depression to commit suicide, it’s usually just implied). But considering that one person commits suicide every 14 minutes in the US alone, we clearly need to do more to battle this illness, and the stigmas that continue to surround it. Perhaps Depression might lose some its “it was his own fault” stigma, if we start focussing on the illness, rather than the symptom. Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. He died from Depression*. It wasn’t his choice to suffer that.

reoccurring-thoughts:

I think the saddest part about losing someone is being able to feel them drifting away. Being able to tell by the way they talk to you or text you that you’re not of importance anymore. You can literally feel them slipping through your fingertips, not being able to do a single thing.

(via sad-butsassy)

ttc-babybear:

redbarracuda:

I decided to visit the Boston Public Gardens today, to see the bench from Good Will Hunting, so I could pay my respects to one of my idols. I wasn’t alone, as crowds of young and old stood near, bound together by sadness.

Rest in peace Robin.

This is so heartbreaking. He died about 45 minutes away from where I live. My heart sank when I heard the news.

(via sad-butsassy)

I heard a joke once: Man goes to the doctor. Says he’s depressed, life is harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world. Doctor says, “treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up.” Man bursts into tears. “But Doctor” he says, “I am Pagliacci.”

—Robin Williams (via elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey)

(Source: paintedlions, via uhhggg)

Oh well, oh well, I still hope for the best. Say goodbye and send me off with a kiss farewell.

—Lyrics I relate to now that you’re gone.

I’m so very sad.