(Source : ethiopienne)
let that also be a gentle reminder that even if you switch up the way you write, i can always peep your ip address and blog info when you send anon messages.
i don’t understand these white kids that binge drink at the age of sixteen. like, didn’t your parents give you rum and shit growing up? if i had a fever, a whiskey soaked cloth; if i have a sore throat, gargle some rum; if i had a sore tooth or bit the inside of my cheek, some vodka mixed with warm salt water. maybe it’s just cause my parents grew up poor and there was always more alcohol and bush around than medicine?
i was ten victor. you know i’ve been in the bottle since birth.
summer of 2004, a little brugal in my lemonade and the smell of cohiba in my hair.
there’s a lot about consent and being intoxicated and i feel that okay, having one intoxicated encounter that went well is definitely not the standard, but i feel like everything went okay. he didn’t push me, he promised and repeated what i was slurring…nothing happened that i didn’t want. lucky chance?
(Source : mangoestho)
In the night, I hear them talk the coldest story ever told
Somewhere far along this road, he lost his soul
To a woman so heartless…