The next time someone points out the self-inflicted scars on my arms, and I’m going to act all surprised and say, “Holy shit! You’re right! Where did those come from? I’ve never seen them before?”

Do you point out when someone has a visible pimple or mole? Do I have to remind you that it’s fucking rude to blatantly point out differences in someone? I can forgive you if you’re five years old and at the, “are you pregnant or just really fat” stage where you ask rude things because you don’t know any better, but FUCK, the amount of teenagers and adults who think it is always appropriate to tell me that my arms are scarred, what the fuck is wrong with you? 

I was okay wearing short-sleeved tops until people like YOU broke down my confidence and now I am terrified to wear singlets. But gee, it’s only my self-confidence, obviously your intrusive curiosity is sooo much more important!

"When the fuck was it decided that we should start teaching our daughters to accept being belittled, disrespected and abused as endearing treatment? And we have the audacity to wonder why women stay in abusive relationships? How did society become so oblivious to the fact that we were conditioning our daughters to endure abusive treatment, much less view it as romantic overtures? Is this where the phrase “hitting on girls” comes from? Well, here is a tip: Save the “it’s so cute when he gets hateful/physical with her because it means he loves her” asshattery for your own kids, not mine. While you’re at it, keep them away from my kids until you decide to teach them respect and boundaries."

You Didn’t Thank Me For Punching You in the Face,” by Queen of the Couch.

home-of-amazons found the article for me! The blog entry is blunt and to the point.

(via academicsilence)

^THIS quote. So much of it.

(via life-tbd)

I went for a run today! :D But excuse me while I have a wee rant.

While I was running, I could see a group of tweenagers a few metres ahead of me, walking in a line and completely blocking the footpath. As I ran, I logically assumed that they would part so I could get through. BUT NO. FUCKING NO. I got ALL the way up to them, and they still hadn’t moved. So I skidded to a halt right in front of them, and EVEN THEN they barely parted an inch. So I shoved my way between them and said, “Oh come on, guys,” in a pissed off tone, and kept running. I had my iPod in so I couldn’t hear their inevitable bitchy/shocked comments. But…. FFUUUUUUCCCCKCKKKKKKKKKKing HELL. What happened to this crazy little notion called…what was it? Oh yeah, COMMON. COURTESY

As if running isn’t hard enough without some little shits making it even harder. Fuck.

(Source: shampaynez)