Every narrative should…
Our psychological state allows us to see only what we want/need/feel to see at a particular time. What five words do you see?
this scares me a little
why was my first one suicide
my first one was leave :/ i wish i could
Suicide, Secret, Scum, Fool, Coke?¿
RAGE FURY CUT MAN SEX
Mad, man, fool, suicide and cut ._.
Secrets passion naked sin slam omg that is so sexual xD HAHA. I’m horrible
suicide, lust, naked, crush, and secrets.
Malice, Secrets, Past, Fool, and Lust…… Woah there.
Lust, Fool, Crush, Past, Secret
Flesh, men, fool, lies, secrets
arm, chat, pass, dream,
Read, naked,crush, fool, dead…
Suicide, fool, Malice, Lust……..
Leave, the, past, tease, fool….
Although the birth control mandate has been hotly debated and contested for its burden on taxpayers, Medicare has spent $872 million on penis pumps in the last five years alone. Viagra has also received $819 million and Cyalis more than $782 million. But you’ll never hear those numbers being debated anywhere.
omg i never knew that disney owns marvel what what what
disney owns everything
disney owns star wars
disney owns abc
disney owns you
dose this mean the Avengers count as disney princes?
If someone doesn’t draw this (and ultra kick ass princess Natasha)I may be sad.
The pie seems to have come out ok:
It’s mostly the recipie from the karo bottle) with about half a cup each semi sweet chocolate chips and crushed pretzel sticks.
The hard part will be waiting to try some. It’s for Easter.
((when I say ‘about’ so much I mean “I dunno I smashed things and threw them in and stirred.))
Look around your college classroom, spot the virgins.
See, this seems like a game until you skip over the girl with a short skirt and hair in front of her eyes because you heard last summer that she slept with like nineteen guys. You can’t see her hands, but they’re under the table, pulling a rosary through her fingers as she tries to wash the sin off her. She’s only ever kissed three people in her whole life and they’re all girls. She turned down the wrong guy and he told everyone she’s “a whore.” The label “slut” stuck to the bottom of her shoe and swallowed her up.
But that quiet girl who is always reading probably never touched someone else’s penis, you figure, because you don’t know that she goes home and strips down and pulls on tight black leather, you don’t know she’s got a set of whips that could make any set of knees quiver, you don’t know because she’s proud of what she does but she’s not stupid enough to let anyone know about it. She’s sexy, just not here, not where people judge.
See, the truth is: you have no idea who has lost their virginity, because it doesn’t change you. It doesn’t give you some kind of glow or superpower or stamp on your forehead. You know the feeling of waking up on your birthday and thinking “I don’t feel any older whatsoever”? That’s what maybe they’re all so afraid of you finding out: sex doesn’t change you. Sex doesn’t make you an animal, sex doesn’t suddenly make your relationship a million times more stable or intimate or romantic - it can’t fix what’s broken, although it can make the pain go away for a bit. Sex doesn’t really occur with eighty tea lights and a thick white rug. Sex is ugly and loud and frequently awkward, sex is excellent and breathtaking and when you wake up the next morning, you’re the exact same person. There’s not some magical connection with the person in bed beside you. Believe it or not, pregnancy isn’t some kind of punishment - but practice safe sex, get tested, don’t spread your germs around. They want to tell you, “Sex can ruin you” and I’ve heard that a lot as a little girl, that some boy would join me under my sheets and then dump me four days after, used, unhappy.
But I figured out that I’m not a fucking toy. Letting someone have sex with me is not letting them “use” me, because I’m not an object. My father said the issue lay in the fact “Men are insecure and need to know that they’re the best you ever had,” but I think that’s a steaming crock of absolute-wrong and if I didn’t tell the people I’m with how many others I’d slept beside, there would be literally no way for them to know my number, because I don’t rust, I don’t wear out, I don’t get bruised. I’m not a wilting fruit, I don’t go rotten.
But here’s the thing: some people connect sex and emotion. I don’t personally because I am probably secretly an ice storm in disguise, but I still respect my partner’s desires. If they’re the type to want love and sex to coincide, I let them. I don’t make fun, I don’t pull one-night-stands or friends-with-benefits, because it’s not their “reputation” I’m afraid for: it’s their heart I’m defending.
Here’s the thing: Instead of worrying about people’s “purity” and how it defines them as a person, worry instead about how you can protect other people’s emotions.
Because here’s the thing: look around your room and spot the virgins. Look harder. You can’t tell. Sex doesn’t alter people, it doesn’t make them act in a certain way nor dress in a certain manner. Sex and personality have nothing to do with each other. There’s a reason that virginity doesn’t show on someone’s face: because having sex doesn’t cause you to change.
I am baking a pecan pie with chocolate chips and crushed pretzels. Is this a thing? I know the chocolate pecan pie is a thing…