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Notes: 7163 | Posted On: Tue Apr 22nd, 2014

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Notes: 116 | Posted On: Tue Apr 22nd, 2014


Dom Kennedy x Nipsey Hussle

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Notes: 2955 | Posted On: Tue Apr 22nd, 2014

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Notes: 5780 | Posted On: Tue Apr 22nd, 2014

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Notes: 159 | Posted On: Tue Apr 22nd, 2014

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Notes: 160533 | Posted On: Mon Apr 21st, 2014

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Notes: 46426 | Posted On: Wed Apr 16th, 2014



(Source: vinebox)

Notes: 101287 | Posted On: Wed Apr 16th, 2014



This is how to run a stick of Chapstick
down the black boxes on your scantron
so the grading machine skips the wrong
answers. This is how to honor roll. Hell,
this is how to National Honor Society.
This is being voted “Most Likely to Marry
for Money” or “Talks the Most, Says the
Least” for senior superlatives. This is
stepping around the kids having panic
attacks in the hallway. This is being the
kid having a panic attack in the hallway.
This is making the A with purple moons
stamped under both eyes. We had to try.
This is telling the ACT supervisor you have
ADHD to get extra time. Today, the average
high school student has the same anxiety
levels as the average 1950’s psychiatric
patient. We know the Pythagorean theorem
by heart, but short-circuit when asked
“How are you?” We don’t know. We don’t
know. That wasn’t on the study guide.
We usually know the answer, but rarely
know ourselves.


HIGH SCHOOL By Blythe Baird (via blythebrooklyn)

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Notes: 7304 | Posted On: Sun Apr 13th, 2014

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Notes: 11115 | Posted On: Sun Apr 13th, 2014

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Notes: 53090 | Posted On: Sun Apr 13th, 2014

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Notes: 67723 | Posted On: Mon Feb 17th, 2014


A girl in my Sociology class turns around during a class activity on goals to start a conversation with me. Her opening line is: ‘I want to get married.’ I nod and smile. She does not ask me my goals, just continues telling me the sort of guy she’d like to be with and how many kids she’d like. Thoughtfully, she adds, ‘My mom told me to meet someone and marry them. You don’t wanna date around because you wanna be fresh for the guy and not a….you know what.’

My cousin’s Facebook ‘About Me’ lists things she would like in a man. There is nothing about her or the things she does, only qualities she finds attractive. ‘Looking for someone who can play the guitar and cook a great dinner,’ she wrote. I can hear her bubbly, singsong voice while reading it. She is thirteen years old and has told me that girls ‘oughta only kiss their husbands and that’s it.’ When I ask her what she wants to be when she’s older she says, ‘Married.’

My male friend tells me that he has no problem with what girls do, but that he would not date a girl who’s ‘been around’ because she’d be ‘dirty.’ I wonder if each time someone touches you, a part of you is soiled. If there are piles of dirt in the spaces where others’ fingers once rested. In the shower, I try to scrub the smell of dirt from myself, but come out, still polluted, with red scratch marks all over me.

Being a ‘you know what’ taught me some things: that I do not want to be touched by somebody who will judge my past anyway. That I am not a tally book, with others’ names burned into me. If you have to label me as something, let it be a human being.


A “You Know What” | Lora Mathis 
A middle finger to slut shaming.  (via soggypoetry)

(Source: lora-mathis, via xhoyitserika)

Notes: 16865 | Posted On: Mon Feb 17th, 2014

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Notes: 22509 | Posted On: Mon Feb 17th, 2014

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Notes: 1806 | Posted On: Thu Dec 26th, 2013

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