Cait. 23. Texas.
Writer . Mermaid. Feminist.


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  • me: I'm so cute
  • me 15 mins later: I hate myself
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amazighprincex:

*tips fedora* m’sogyny

(via carcrashhumor)

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thesharkives:

tiger shark
 (by Rikard Ambric Photography)

there may be moments when you are rubbing your wrists
and they are in gold shackles, and we are singing
“O Captain, my Captain, sail home
we are waiting for you”
and you may not hear us, trapped
in an itty bitty living space, on Arabian nights
that fall too heavy on your eyelids.
but we can see you in there, Peter, even
when you cannot remember what fairies look like anymore
and hope seems childish, and you’ve been a grown-up
for long enough to know when it’s time to close the window.
we may be singing, “O Captain, my Captain”
and standing on school desks, waiting
for you to come home and tell us
about poetry and beauty, and romance, and love
and how these are the things we stay alive for,
and you may not hear us.
but we are still singing it anyway, because
you taught us how.

and we just want to tell you
(just like you told us, once)
that it’s not your fault.

it’s not your fault.

it’s not your fault.

we love you.

To Robin, From The Rest of Us by feather-fallen +
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