Know that with every ounce of pain you receive from me means you are mine to...– Last night’s conversation with my slave. (via cometomemypet)
Why I love little kids
Little Girl: Escuse me but you have short hair, are you a boy or a girl?
Me: Well, sometimes I wake up and I feel like a boy, other days I wake up and I feel like a boy, today I feel like a girl.
Little Girl: so, I can be a boy whenever I want?
Me: Yes, If you feel like being a boy, you can be a boy, no matter what your hair looks like.
Little Girl: But my mommy told me that only boys have short hair and girls always have long hair.
Me: Well I'm a girl, and I have short hair, I used to have long hair, but I like it short better.
Little Girl: *gasp* How long was it?
Me: It was all the way to here *puts hand at hip to measure*
Little Girl: WOW! What did you do with all of it?!
Me: Well when I cut it I gave it to these people who make wigs for little girls who are sick and can't grow hair.
Little Girl: Ohhhh *turns to her mother* MOMMY I WANT SHORT HAIR LIKE THIS LADY!
Mother: *glares* No honey, you're a girl, you have to have long hair, your hair is so beautiful.
Little Girl: But I don't want it! I know there's a little girl who will! I want to give it to someone who actually wants it! I can always grow more!
Mother: *grabs child by arm* I don't think so, lets go honey.
What is wrong with this woman!?
reblog if boner
bedbones: i wasn’t trying to kill myself, not really. it was just there: the water and the falling music of it. i was in need of that sort of rush, a sort of deathsong baptism like the day i drove across a bridge and had this urge to accelerate and aim for the side, dive over the abutment and rush past every temptation. i just closed my eyes and mouth and let the water hold me, the cold cocoon...