The owls are not what they seem.


Love the environment, especially animals.
Our bodies and sexuality are beautiful. Taboo topics intrigue me. I don't even make sense to myself. (bluvera.tumblr.com/tagged/text)(bluvera.tumblr.com/tagged/me)


lavonne:

Underwear, smoothie, wet hair, dirty mirror, James’ studio—I love this shot for some reason.

On being naked on the Internet.

I’d guess that most people wouldn’t feel positively about having their intimate parts shared permanently with the world. And why is that? Because they don’t feel good about their bodies? Because they are taught their bodies are shameful? Because they are afraid of causing some kind of scandal and ruining their future lives as teachers and presidents? Maybe they just don’t feel like it? There are too many reasons to list, and I’ve felt many of them at different times. But I didn’t stop sharing. Why? Because the reasons I felt were all based on fear, not the truth, and I feel strongly that many of them are worth fighting against.

I’m glad to be part of a movement of women who freely share themselves with the world, because I feel it is important to tell everyone that it’s okay to do so, and it’s okay to do it just for fun.  

The body and sexuality shaming that women face everyday for a multitude of reasons is deeply damaging and unacceptable. We should feel great about our bodies, regardless of shape, size, or colour. We should feel great about our vast spectrum of sexualities. We should be able to do whatever it is we want, as long as we’re not hurting others. 

Being naked is harmless, but buying into the oppressive rules built by our society is not. Helping enforce these awful rules is not. 

I know this issue reaches beyond women and nudity in a broad range of directions, but I can only speak for myself and what I’m feeling in this moment. Still, the idea is simple and universal: be true to yourself and harm none.

To all those who tell us we are bad people, that we should be ashamed, or change who we are: that is not okay. May we replace this oppression with freedom, this fear and hate with unconditional love for all.

lavonne:

Underwear, smoothie, wet hair, dirty mirror, James’ studio—I love this shot for some reason.

On being naked on the Internet.

I’d guess that most people wouldn’t feel positively about having their intimate parts shared permanently with the world. And why is that? Because they don’t feel good about their bodies? Because they are taught their bodies are shameful? Because they are afraid of causing some kind of scandal and ruining their future lives as teachers and presidents? Maybe they just don’t feel like it? There are too many reasons to list, and I’ve felt many of them at different times. But I didn’t stop sharing. Why? Because the reasons I felt were all based on fear, not the truth, and I feel strongly that many of them are worth fighting against.

I’m glad to be part of a movement of women who freely share themselves with the world, because I feel it is important to tell everyone that it’s okay to do so, and it’s okay to do it just for fun.

The body and sexuality shaming that women face everyday for a multitude of reasons is deeply damaging and unacceptable. We should feel great about our bodies, regardless of shape, size, or colour. We should feel great about our vast spectrum of sexualities. We should be able to do whatever it is we want, as long as we’re not hurting others.

Being naked is harmless, but buying into the oppressive rules built by our society is not. Helping enforce these awful rules is not.

I know this issue reaches beyond women and nudity in a broad range of directions, but I can only speak for myself and what I’m feeling in this moment. Still, the idea is simple and universal: be true to yourself and harm none.

To all those who tell us we are bad people, that we should be ashamed, or change who we are: that is not okay. May we replace this oppression with freedom, this fear and hate with unconditional love for all.

(Source: plantmagicdust)

(Source: pale-vogue)

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.
—Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

Crying crying crying

(via trashtini)

(Source: justsingyourlifeaway)

luveren:

Only send me dog/cat pics (413)426-5901  I dont need to know you …or yr butt

Ouu hand pose.

Ouu hand pose.

Found these selfies in my phone from a couple weeks ago, was I doing the “glamour” shots right? Hahah

Found these selfies in my phone from a couple weeks ago, was I doing the “glamour” shots right? Hahah

(Source: rasplove)

amberlilli:

Omfg


Mememememme

amberlilli:

Omfg

Mememememme

(Source: botpoet)

I want to look at my brain

(Source: artforadults)

I wish people could just say how they feel like ‘Hey I really don’t like when you do that to me’ or ‘Hey I’m in love with you’ or ‘Hi I really miss you and I think about you all the time’ without sounding desperate. Why can’t everyone be painfully honest and just save people the trouble.

luveren:

You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you, like no idea. Your eyes scream I want to fuck you. I’ve never wanted to taste every inch of someone’s body as much as yours. But I know I have to wait til after for my dessert.

1. Stop faking your fucking orgasms. Society already tells young men that they run the fucking universe - if they can’t turn your cunt into a shooting star then for god’s sake, let them know about it.

2. Once you’ve stopped faking your fucking orgasms, use this newfound honesty throughout the rest of your life - stop ordering coffee you don’t actually like; stop sitting at a desk and allowing people to treat you like shit in the hopes that a meek attitude will earn you a promotion (it won’t); stop telling people they can finish your food when you’re not actually done yet. These may seem petty, but they add up, just like every orgasm you didn’t actually get to have.

3. If you wanna dance all night, dance all fucking night. Dance all night even if you have work in the morning. The worst that will happen is you’ll drink RedBull all day and look like a zombie - pass it off as a head cold to the real zombies you work with and flick through the embarrassing photos you’re being tagged in as you pretend to take a shit for some peace and quiet. I promise, you’ll remember dancing all night in ten years, not the suspicious way your boss looked at you that morning.

4. If your ass looks big in that, that’s a good thing.

5. You will never be as young as you are this second. Embrace it.

6. Embrace the fact that you’re going to get older. Ask your boyfriend if he will still love you when you’re seventy and your tits are down to your knees. Look forward to this time - seventy year old women are allowed to do pretty much whatever they want, and no-one can stop them. You can carry candy in your bag and not share it with a single soul. You can stay home all day and cross-stitch expletives onto handkerchiefs for your grandchildren and slip them under the table out of sight of the people you raised. You can drink whisky at 10am. Every phase of your life is going to be amazing for different reasons. Embrace that.

7. A lot of people will pretend to love Bukowski. Don’t pretend to love Bukowski if you don’t love Bukowski. It’s overplayed and no-one will mind if you actually like Virginia Andrews instead - the people who do mind are boring.

Some more little life lessons, by Daisy Lola (via dishevelment)

This cheered me up

(via luveren)

(Source: spearmintblonde)