raise your hand if you’ve ever been disgusted by your own fandom…
if you don’t raise your hand, chances are you’re the one your fandom is disgusted with
[On how she got her role on ‘Hugo’] “Basically, I got a call from my agency and they were like “Look, Martin Scorsese is making a movie,” […] they said “We’re only casting local brits because we want the real accent, we want the whole thing,” and I was like “Okay, well. You know, I’ll do a tape and I’ll audition for it.” So I wore a little wig, and I did everything in a british accent, and he loved it. So he flew me and Asa Butterfield— the kid who played Hugo— to New York to do an audition for him, in front of him. So I flew out there, keeping up the act that I was british […] And then as I was leaving — luckily, he was amused — I said in my regular voice, “Bye Marty!” and he was like, “Wait. What? Where’d your accent go?” And I was like…”
my friends sister was telling me about how in highschool a guy tried to take a picture up her skirt as she was walking up stairs and she saw, grabbed his phone, broke it in half, and handed it back to him and said “you can tell your mom why your phones broken”
for a second I forgot about flip phones and I was like how in the holy hell did she rip a phone in half
The first time I cut, which has been over 3 years ago, I had used a bobby pin, and made a small mark about an inch in length along the back on my hand. It didn’t bleed, it just broke the skin. But it gave a release that soon I would become addicted to. The second time I did it, it was the exact…
Tonight I listened to a voicemail you left me three months ago.
In it, you told me to go fuck myself.
I still remember that night.
I still remember those words rolling off your tongue so gracefully.
I remember wondering how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.
Two months ago I called you at three A.M.
I expected you to ignore it, or to send me to voicemail;
those were two of the things you were best at.
You answered and I felt my heart begin to race;
you probably thought it was because I missed you,
but truthfully it was because I didn’t expect you to answer,
and because I really had to pee.
I asked you how you were and you sat there quietly and confused.
It was like you forgot that I existed and that I was once a part of your life.
You told me “fine” and I smiled.
That was the last conversation we had.
I made sure to let go of you, and every negative word that was said, in a peaceful way.
Fast forward two months, and I still wonder how you are.
I still wonder how your dog is and if you’ve seen any good movies lately.
If you ever heard me say this, you’d probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet.
You’d probably think I think these things because I still love you, that I still want you.
But that is not the case.
You see, six months ago I was jumping through hoops to please you.
To make sure that you were happy before myself.
To make sure that I was the one causing your happiness.
But it is not six months ago.
It is now.
And now I simply remember you as a person I gave my soul to.
A person I told secrets to at 4am and fucked to feel a sense of closeness.
A person I loved, yes.
But it is not six months ago.
It is now, and now I miss you.
I miss the way you called randomly just to ask how my day was.
I miss the way you seemed to care, even if you didn’t.
I miss the friendship and the secrets and the stories.
And maybe one day things will be different.
Maybe you’ll call me on a Tuesday afternoon and ask how my day was.
These are the things I think about before my eyes slowly close and I am finally rewarded with sleep.
But for right now?
Go fuck yourself.
- The constant fear of bleeding through clothes
- The constant cramps
- Having to change pads/tampons every 2-4 hours
- Having to deal with mood swings
- Having to deal with boys going ‘Oh someones on their period’
- When you stand up its like a waterfall from your vagina
- Craving food to calm you down
- The constant fear that you smell of blood even though you dont
- Feeling over emotional
- FUCKEN CRAMPS
YOU MEAN I DON’T ACTUALLY SMELL LIKE BLOOD?!
One of the nominees this year is ‘Her’, and by her, I mean Meryl Streep.