Apparently, this is my name in Gallifreyan.
Are you my mummy?
And this is some sex negative bullshit up in here. First, sex isn’t just meant for having kids. I don’t ever want to be a parent and I damn well intend to have sex. Stop telling people how to use their bodies.
Also, what if the dream I want to follow is to fuck a whole lot and never have a kid…cuz it is.
The photo is blurry, the tattoo isn’t. It’s 444 (in my best friend’s handwriting) outlined by the state of Ohio. In blue.
Check out how soppily in love I look in this photo. And I was. I showed this photo to some friends and one of them said “that looks like it was a very good day.” All I could think was “it was the best day.”
That’s the day he (yes, the same he I’m looking at adoringly) cheated on me…mere hours before this photo was taken. I didn’t know about it until months later, of course.
This photo, that beautiful day, our friendship, the most honest love I’ve ever had, and so much happiness were just ruined by selfishness the likes of which I never ever could have imagined. I know it’s cliche and probably silly, but I don’t get it.
I still just don’t get it.
Look at my face. Look how unguarded and open and in love I am in that photo. It’s so obvious. The love in my eyes there, I meant it completely. I guess that makes me a sap, too, because I totally didn’t see the betrayal coming.
One of my tattoos.
Contrary to what may seem obvious, the opposite of love is not hate; it’s fear. Hence adding -phobia to words when we want to show that someone has disdain. Fatphobia, for instance, it’s FEAR and fear causes hateful reactions. The best way to counter fear and end hate is with love. It’s almost always the answer.
Also, this is MEEEEEEEEEEE!
My boyfriend took this photo of me on Seaburn Beach, Sunderland. He’s an amazing boyfriend and an amazing photographer.
Note added 8 months later: Found out this is the day he cheated on me. Oh, pseudo-irony.