Christa. 19. Texas. Talk to me. USWNT. Science junkie.
"The gays" I say with a dry monotone voice completely ignoring my own very apparent homosexuality
I want to be kissed angrily.
I want a girl who has had an extremely bad day and is mad at the world, shove me against a wall and kiss me until both our lips start to bruise. I want her to pour out all the anger shes feeling and shove it down my lungs, and then I want to push back. Not with force but with air, I want to turn that anger into love and turn the bruising kiss soft. I want to remind her that life is too beautiful to hate.
This is absolutely perfect.
my dog was supposed to be a police dog but he failed the training for it because he was too much of a wimp. the trainers said that when he was supposed to be attacking dummies he’d run up to them and roll over and wag his tail and they also said he was the worst failure they’d ever seen
If god loves all his children then why do I, god’s child, have no gf?
You’re in love with another girl, Liza Winthrop, and you know that means you’re probably gay. But you don’t know a thing about what that means.
I went downstairs to Dad’s encyclopedia and looked up homosexuality, but that didn’t tell me much about any of the things I felt. What struck me most, though, was that, in that whole long article, the world “love” wasn’t used even once. That made me mad; it was as if whoever wrote that article didn’t know that gay people actually love each other. The encyclopedia ought to talk to me, I thought as I went back to bed; I could tell them something about love.