Be one, be none, be all.

I like yellow. My middle name is rae. Think of it as a ray of sunshine. I am a college sophomore, and I tend to mess everything up. I have a problem with procrastination. I am not perfect. Once we're friends, you can't get rid of me. Sorry. I enjoy making pointless songs in the hallway with my not-so-dormmates.

My senior prophecy was to burn down a library. I currently work at one. Who knows what the future holds. I don't believe in many things, but right now I'm studying Wicca. If you think it sounds scary, it's not. Stereotypes suck, so just ask me about it, if your curious. I don't drink (generally) and certainly not to get drunk. I smoke hookah as often as I can, and I even have my own. It's adorable. But I like the bars, people are funny. Spontaneity, I live off of. But, it doesn't usually work in my favor. Ask my professors. Or my mom.I daydream.

If I could bottle the smell of a musty basement, and smell it all day, I would. But then I guess that would take away the joy of it. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.Thingthingthing.

And yes, I do take photographs, not pictures, because I enjoy it. I cannot wait to travel one day. Anywhere.

I have much life left and that's the last time I let anyone in to my heart for a LONG time. Hopefully I have enough life to find some hope again.

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I just don’t understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to stay in bed all day long and watch lame romantic comedies and drink coffee and read books in your underwear. Whoever established all these “get a job, be successful” conventions really needs a serious beating. I didn’t sign the terms and conditions for this shit.

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torment-ed:

s-kined:

fragileminded:

This is me and these are my scars. August 2010, on vacation, Greece.

I’m recovering from self harm and these are my scars. They’re there. They’re visible. They always will be and I know that. I can’t go back and undo my mistakes. I used to hide my scars, always. I used to be so ashamed, I felt so ugly and disgusted with myself. People who say self harmers do it for attention? You have no idea of how far we go to cover it up, to conceal the truth, to keep it a secret, to keep it from you.

I regretted my mistakes for years. You know what that does to you? It makes you bitter. It makes you sad. It makes you lonely and miserable. It makes you push people away because you’re so ashamed. Everything hurts. Breathing hurts, living hurts, existing hurts and what hurts the most - to go on. To keep breathing, to keep living.

But you know what? I’m still me. I always have been. My skin might be damaged and yes, it’s self inflicted - but what difference does it make? The people who love me, they love me for me. Flaws doesn’t make them love me any less. My scars are a part of me. My scars made me who I am. People who can’t handle that - they’re free to leave. Friends who left? I let them leave. If I’m not good enough for them because I cut, that’s not my loss.

That’s shallow. Everyone has flaws. Everyone has a story. If people want to judge me based on how I look, go ahead. Are you perfect? Are you sure about that? Have you never done anything in your life you wish you could go back and change? Are you flawless? Really?

Because I’m not, and I know that.

(reblogging for a few anons who asked about it)

i need to reblog this everyday so i remember not to be ashamed of my scars.

I remember seeing this before and finding it inspirational, but even more so now. I’m so worried about my vacation in the summer to Lanzarote, and worried about what people will think. My scars are mainly on my arms, but I know people will judge and that terrifies me. This post gives me a little strength and gives me a little hope that it’ll be okay and I can get through it. I’ll never see most of the people again, other than my family and cousins etc who are coming with us, but hey.