i feel like being a suicide girl is so easy omfg like you don’t even have to be THAT pretty or have that nice of a body like literally all you need is a couple tattoos and be willing to pose nude and you can be a suicide girl
I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
To donate £5 to the charity supporting the male victims of domestic abuse, text the message: MKDV46 to 70070
At first I though this was a joke
Don’t ignore this Tumblr
Yet they still do even when it’s right in their face.
This reminds me of how a friend of mine was abused by the mother of his child. She was mentally unstable and used to berate him constantly and would smack him in the head all the time. It really pissed me off. Then one night she threw hot coffee in his face and tried to stab him with a screwdriver. The cops hauled him off to jail because she made up a sob story that painted herself as the victim.
Once he left her, he stayed with me and it was a nightmare. She stalked him and me. She would drive by my house obsessively at all hours of the day and night (her muffler made a weird sound so I know it was her). She started showing up at my job, showing up at the places I frequented around town, and filling up my voicemail with dead air. The cops were no help.
One day she got bold enough to talk her way into my home by conning my elderly grandmother, whom I was taking care of, while I was out. She went in my room and went through my stuff (creepy), then found him napping on the couch and attacked him. My grandmother witnessed the whole thing. He grabbed her by the arms, forced her out the front door, and locked it. The cops were called again. They said they’d go and ‘talk’ to her.
The next day we were watching a movie and there was a knock at the door. The police had come to arrest him. She filed a complaint against him and shown off some bruises on her arms from the altercation that she swore were completely unprovoked. My grandmother saw the whole thing since she was in the living room too and testified on his behalf. He still ended up serving jail time.
No one takes male domestic violence victims seriously. They only see males as perpetrators.
And I hear you’ve ended up fine.
And I’ve heard you’re making out alright.
I’ve heard you still don’t like the cold outside,
And I’ve heard you still got trouble tracking time.
And I heard you said one time,
That I never even fucking cross your mind.
I guess I’ll act like that’s fine,
But you should know that you cross mine all the time.