how the hell did we get the idea pink isn’t a cool colour

because scientifically speaking pink doesn’t even exist; it fits between violet and red on the spectrum but actually what goes there is infrared and ultraviolet and all those things we can’t see

pink is the ambassador of an otherworldly and unknowable realm it is the most badass colour out there


your sister
your daughter
your mother.

a woman gets decked across the face
by a man four times her size
and then gets dragged across the floor, knocked out cold
like a bag of trash
she doesn’t call the police because she thinks
I just make him angry sometimes, you know?
your daughter.

a girl is sexually assaulted in her own bed
and spends the following weeks, months, years
sleeping on the couch
in the living room
your sister.

a woman is attacked on the side of the road
in a sequin blue mini skirt that shines in the streetlights
when she bought it she thought it reminded her of
the starlight, or the glittering of ocean waves
she stays inside most nights, now, with the curtains drawn
she won’t go back to the beach
your daughter.

a woman spends fifteen years of her life
moving in and out of the same house
carting her children back and forth
leaving in the middle of the night with dark blue and purple bruises, every single time
coming back with shaking hands and lifeless eyes, every single time
your mother.

I wonder if you would ever dare to ask
your sister if she provoked him
I wonder if you would ever dare to ask
your daughter if she was asking for it
I wonder if you would ever dare to ask
your mother if she tried hard enough to make it work
but of course you wouldn’t
of course you wouldn’t
when it’s
your sister
your daughter
your mother
you see them as people
you see them as worth more
you see that they deserve more than this

but when it’s just the woman in the apartment below you -
when it’s 12 am and you hear glass shattering and raised voices
underneath your feet
you cluck your tongue
and you never reach for the phone.

When it’s just the girl you see around school
who wears short skirts and high heels
when she doesn’t show up to school for a week
when she comes back with fading bruises and a listless stare
in long jeans and ratty old sneakers
you shake your head at her
and you wonder what she was wearing that night.

I’m sick of asking that question -
what if it was
your sister
your daughter
your mother?
I might as well be asking
what if she actually mattered
what if she were worth something more than
the amount of clothes she was or wasn’t wearing
what if she were more than skin waiting to be touched
more than skin waiting to be bruised
would you pick up the phone?
would you help her carry her mattress?
would you ask her why she doesn’t go to the beach anymore?

someone’s daughter
someone’s sister
someone’s mother -
we are all someone
is that not enough?
are we not enough?
am I not enough?

well I am not your sister
I am not your daughter
and I am not your mother
but I am worth more than a twenty dollar sequin skirt
I am worth more than the purpling of my skin
I am worth more than the streetlights I walk underneath
more than the car keys I clench between my fingers like knives
and I am not defined by who I am in relation to you
I am not defined by who I am in relation to anyone
I belong to myself and myself alone
and I will sooner burn myself up from the inside out
than will I allow you to reduce me to nothing more
than someone’s daughter
someone’s sister
or someone’s mother.


whenever taylor isn’t on tumblr for a few hours i get suspicious like what is that girl doing… another secret session????? filming a new music video????? destroying the patriarchy?????? who even knows anymore


*in the principal’s office next to boy w/ a chunk of hair missing and a blackeye*
“what happened here madeline??”
“he said Taylor Swift should write a song called ‘maybe I’m the problem’”
“oh well in that case ur free to go”


there has been 10 instances today where i have imagined being invited to the 1989 listening sessions and meeting taylor and hugging her and thanking her for helping me stay alive and telling her how much i love her and each and every one has ended in me crying 


ah, yes, october …. leaves falling from the trees .. pumpkin flavoured everything ….. crisp chilly mornings …….. taylor swift fans losing their shit … warm fuzzy gloves and scarves …..


okay seriously

how is this


and this


the same freaking person

i don’t understand

taylorswift please teach me your ways


*sees you changed your url* *doesnt ask about it* *never knows who you are for the rest of ever*


new taylor swift photoshoots





sometimes i worry about this fandom *buys it* 

Dating or finding someone is the last thing on my mind, because I can’t picture how it could work with the way my life is.

“I had no idea who I was! I was going through all these phases. I was trying on different outfits and all these different personalities, trying to figure out what category I fit into, and which clique I would be accepted in. But if you just keep doing ‘you’, and being who you are and doing what feels natural to you, maybe you won’t find a place where you fit in for a very long time, but you eventually will.”

— Taylor Swift for Vogue, November 2014 (via ialmostdo) —