Keep Smiling
I cannot say I will do this often. I also cannot say it will entertain you, make you emotional, or be in anyway profound.
Thanks.

nonelikerae:

Do you want to create an emotionally stable life together and adopt a dog or nah.

(via ghostlyfoxadventures)

lalna:

i wanna date someone and live with them in a shitty apartment but be happy about it because we are happy together and we can decorate it with stupid dorky posters of shit we like and figurines and art and we can cook weird recipes we found on the internet and eat them and watch cartoons even if the food is gross because we made it and we’re perfect

(via ghostlyfoxadventures)

I like boys on swings, and girls on skateboards. I like babies in high chairs. I like pharmaceutical medicine wrappers. I like people in hats with big eyebrows. I like people in hats with big eyebrows and big moustaches. I like water caught in spiders webs. I like wearing all my clothes at once. I like people who don’t smile, ever. And I like people who smile. I like hair that goes on and on. I love food. In some ways I love everything because its less, less of a thing than like, less distinct, less particular. I like things that I like but I LOVE everything. There’s more choice in like. Because even the worst things have things to love in them. I love things so much I feel like I can float away… I don’t know what you mean about things I hate. I hate shoes. I hate people who change their voices when they say something important. I hate my thighs. I hate war. I hate swimming costumes that cling. I hate dripping taps. But.. I also sort of love dripping taps. I hate invitations. I hate radiators. I hate this. Wow.
Cassie, Skins (via nissassippi)

(via ghostlyfoxadventures)

feggotdesu:

dating me means dating my anxiety and my random spouts of depression it means dating my panic attacks at 11pm or 2 am or 5am or anytime of the day for that matter it means dating my mood swings where i get really upset over everything about me and all my insecurities and how i’m not good enough because i’m never good enough

(Source: harmless-untruth, via ghostlyfoxadventures)

ckgarden:

Aw

comfygrunge:

i need somebody who will go to plant nurseries with me and assist me in being a pretentious fuckwad

(via ghostlyfoxadventures)

gaywrites:

We went to the party, and, as I figured, some of the guests laughed and made comments. One said to me, “Do you think this is funny? There are kids here. You want them to see this?” Another said, “You want him to be gay?”  

And I stayed calm. And I explained to them the best I could that there is no correlation between kids cross-dressing and being gay. And if he is gay, it’s not because of anything I did. It’s because he’s gay. And maybe it’s a stage. And maybe it’s not. But either way, I don’t want him to ever feel like he wasn’t able to express himself because his parents didn’t support him. And some understood. And some, trapped by religion or ignorance, gave us the stank face. 

Plenty of people are supportive. They’ll see my kids — Sydney with her long dirty blonde hair, and Asher with his short dark hair, and say, “I love your daughter’s pixie cut.” When I tell them he’s my son, they smile and say, “I love it.” They also apologize for confusing his gender, but I tell them, “Don’t apologize. He’s in a purple dress with sparkly shoes. How would you know?” I know there are parents who get worked up when you confuse their kids’ gender, but I’m not one of them.

I get home before my wife most nights, so I was taking the kids out to walk our dog. They were dressing up in different outfits, my daughter treating Asher like her doll, as she tried various dresses, shoes, and headbands on him. And then Sydney told me she wanted me to wear a dress, too — “Oh my god, it will be so funny.”

I said, “No,” but she kept begging. I said, “People will laugh at me.” She said, “If they do, I’ll tell them to go away.” And I couldn’t argue with that, as I squeezed myself into Carrie’s most flexible dress. We walked the dog on our block, and the pleasure my kids took in seeing their dad go out of his comfort zone trumped the humiliation I felt.

Carrie pulled up to the house, and I saw her slacked jaw from the end of the street. She laughed. She took a picture. And she told me I better not rip her dress. And then we all went for a pizza.


(My Son Wears Dresses And That’s OK With Me | Seth Menachem for xoJane)