I am Mango. I mostly hate everything and everyone. If I say that I like or love something or someone, then they should consider themselves lucky.
I baisicly reblog whatever the fuck I want...
16 years young.
Homomomomosexual.
My one true love is my bed <3
(Was) Recovering cutter.
I always follow back.
**Trigger warning
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
I like being alone, but I hate the feeling of being lonely.
When you’re alone, you have time for yourself. Your thoughts finally catch up to you. You set your mind on things and everything is just clearer. Nothing’s bothering you and everything just feels right for once.
When you feel lonely, you feel as if no one’s there for you. It feels like no one understands you or is willing to listen. It feels like you’re screaming in a crowded room, but yet not one person looks up.
Friend: You've never heard that song before?
Me: No.
Friend: What, have you been living under a rock?
Me: Punk Rock
Gotdamn Firebenders and their pizzas
guys i legitimately just cried THIS IS THE CUTEST THING ASJDKFH;fkdhjsdfkjh im completely serioius im sobbing
i’m a heartless bitch when it comes to this shit but omg my hysterical creyssss
(Source: thedailywhat)
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.
imagine two gay teenage pop musicians openly involved in a romantic relationship whose fandom members swear on their lives that they’re secretly straight and have girlfriends
actual ndns v. hipsters
so maybe y’all can see how ridiculous you look.
