teacher:the red paints a depiction of anger, the boy finally biting into his anger and letting it unleash all the while his innocence is being violated by the teeth of despair and the endless throat that is life and being boiled by the stomach acid of unstoppable death
my mum and brother got back from cornwall today, just an hour after after I got back from Nottingham (another free journey!! Yeah, Friday was free too because I am super inconspicuous) and I’m so glad they’re home and also my bought me a tiny birdy necklace made out of cornish glass.
But also, it’s weird. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I feel like I’m in a weird limbo at the moment, where neither Wakefield nor Nottingham are home. I have friends here in Yorkshire, and friends down in Nottinghamshire, but I’m honestly struggling to think of either as where I actually live. I feel like a fucking guest in either place.
Also living on my own was totally not as bad as I thought, and I think I already miss it. Just the house was so peaceful and I could wander round naked, and eat really healthily and what I pleased and at what time I liked.
Hmm, I’m not looking forward to being done with uni per se, I just think I am very close to that stage where I progress into life on my own (not on my own, but you know, without living at “home” or having to be somewhere because of university) it’s very strange thinking about that and not being afraid.
So Pixie Lott didn’t shave her pits… So what? The response of this “journo” is disgusting. Way to set feminism and the body confidence of women back, asshat.
WELL EXCUSE ME
but what the fuck is this? I’m afraid this is one of those times where any eloquence I may have to set me aside from this pseudo-reporting slimeball is going to go completely out of the window, situation demands this, sorry. But as a decent human being with a shred of intellect and a pinch of integrity, I fail to see how what Pixie Lott does with her armpit “garden” is precisely any fucking thing to do with you.
I think it’s detestable that anyone should feel the right to comment on such a public scale about people’s fucking body hair choices. So fucking what, she’s got a bit of stubble. As long as she’s not rubbing her stubbly armpit on your eyeballs I really do struggle to see your involvement in any way.
In the meantime, I say we find this writer and rub our stubbly armpits on their eyeballs. How loathsome.
I think you could fall in love with anyone if you saw the parts of them no one else gets to see. Like if you followed them around invisibly for a day and saw them crying in their bed at night or singing in the shower or humming quietly to themselves as they make a sandwich or even just walking along the street. And even if they were really weird and had no friends at school, I think, after seeing them at their most vulnerable, you wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with them.