About

I'm Sydney.

I'm 20. I'm a very neat monster.

I never know what I'm doing. sometimes I'm really charming. I really enjoy the company of cats. my mind is working at its own pace and there are far too many things trying to happen in there all at once. I don't like it when people get close to my face. I smoke a lot. my hair is really nice. if I was a Disney princess, I would be Belle.

if you'd like to know about some things you might find here:
Lost, Breaking Bad, Noel Gallagher, Dexter, Community, Supernatural, cats, weed, more cats, me rambling about shit that isn't important, and things related to Olivia Wilde.

this is an unacceptable blog. let's be friends.

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(Source: c-isnenegro)


(via biggestsycophant)

idealizable:

by:13245879795 on Flickr

"My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you’ve been mean to someone, they won’t believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then destroy them."

~ Laurell K. Hamilton (via lorimort)

(Source: psych-quotes)


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turkey-imported-from-maine:

firelorcl:

meladoodle:

i wanna be a reverse tooth fairy where i rob people and then scatter human teeth on their bed

a dentist

i dont know what your dentist is doing to you but i think you need to go to the police


(via peacelovebatman)

(Source: rapcandy)


(via dorkvader)

"I am sorry for filling you with beer and bad thoughts and then asking you why you shook. I am sorry for pinching you, for hitting you, for bruising the thin-skinned parts of you. I am sorry for the names I called you when we were fighting. You are not ugly. You are not useless. You would not be better off gone. I’m sorry for almost throwing you out into the street because my sadness was too much for me. I’m sorry for carving my fingernails into your thigh and then resenting the way people asked, “How’d that happen?” I’m sorry for plucking you and nicking your calves with drugstore razors. I’m sorry I let some people see you in the moonlight. They didn’t deserve to know the color of your hips like I do. I’m sorry for leaving you convulsing over a toilet bowl over some boy. I’m sorry I did not thank you for simply trying to take me where I wanted to go. I’m sorry I screamed at you to shrink, shrink, shrink when all you could do was grow. I’m sorry that this apology is ten years too late. I’m sorry that it will probably come again. I’m sorry that I do not treat anybody else as poorly as I have treated you. I’m sorry that I am constantly learning how to love you, when you have never once doubted how you feel about me. I’m sorry in ways I have not yet learned to communicate."

~ An Apology to My Body | Lora Mathis (via coffeeisneverstrongenough)

(Source: lora-mathis)


(via joselina)

"

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

"

~ It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

(via joselina)

"I have lived
in my body
for years
and still need
maps and lights
to find my way
to how I feel."

~ Michelle K., Body of Maps. (via michellekpoems)

Yes.

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