Latest Posts by browneyed-brownhairedgirl - Page 2

do u ever change the way that u talk depending on who youre with

like some people you talk to like youre both english majors and then others u talk 2 like youre having a mental breakdown

my friends r so talented. rb if ur friends are talented

the amount of letters in your full name is now your forever age. what is it?

Why do I always have to torture myself by replaying conversations and overanalysing every word I said

English teachers can either be the coolest teacher you ever had or the worst thing ever

reblog if ur mom is smart and beautiful

requested by her7emeralds

snail as old as slime

the mathematics students

crisp, grey mornings

the scratch of pencil on graph paper

working through complex problems just for the joy of it

baroque era piano music playing in the background

a love of patterns and puzzles

writing out your favorite proofs again and again

advanced math courses, sitting with the upperclassmen

the dusty green of an empty chalkboard

formulas scribbled on your hand in pen

going through a problem again and again until you understand it fully

carefully sketched graphs

short, bitten nails

ice cold water

hands marked with graphite

using math to take apart the world around you

doodling fractals on scratch paper

memorizing digits of pi just to show off to your friends

the moment of clarity when a problem fits together

hair clipped back out of your face

looking for fibonacci sequences in nature

watching a long and complicated equation simplify down to something short and compact

Bitches are able to read hardcore bdsm porn fanfiction with a straight face but start to grin and squeak like an idiot as soon there is the smallest fluff.

That’s me, I’m bitches.

romanticize un-illuminated brown and black eyes. romanticize the way dark eyes look without being blinded by flash. romanticize brown eyes that don’t have streaks of gold and yellow. romanticize black eyes that are so raven it’s hard to distinguish where the iris is. the depth of your dark eyes is enchanting. brown and black eyes draw you in, wrap you up, and leave you wanting more. fall in love with them.

Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga (Part I)

𝕂𝕦𝕙𝕦 (Hindi: कोहु Bengali: [kü: hü]): 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝.

SAHIL MIRZA IS THE ONLY ALLY FOR WLW WE NEED. HE DIDN’T REACT IN A HOMOPHOBIC WAY WHEN HE FOUND OUT SWEETY WAS A LESBIAN DESPITE BEING HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE WITH HER AND ASKED HER IF HE COULD HELP HER SINCE SHE WAS IN THE CLOSET AND HER GIRLFRIEND WAS IN LONDON.

WHEN SWEETY TOLD HIM SHE MIGHT KILL HERSELF IF SHE CAN’T BE WITH KUHU HE TOLD HER NO AND LET HER HUG HIM AND PROCEEDED TO CREATE A WHOLE FUCKING PLAY TO LET SWEETY AND KUHU BE NEAR EACH OTHER AND TACKLE HOMOPHOBIA AND HOW HARMFUL HETERONORMATIVITY IS.

AND HE DID IT ALL BECAUSE SWEETY IS HIS FRIEND. HE FOUND SUCCESS IN CREATING A FRESH NEW STORY BY PARALLELING THE TRUTH; REALITY. BY GIVING QUEER VOICES A PLACE TO BE HEARD, FOR A MESSAGE TO BE SENT OUT AND TO ENLIGHTEN PEOPLE. ALL TO HELP SWEETY AND KUHU BE TOGETHER.

my only 2 moods

You made it sad

when we’re not together we’re on each other’s mind

WE ARE *BANGS HEAD AGAINST WALL* NEVER EVER EVER *THROWS CHAIR* GETTING BACK TOGETHER *JUMPS OFF A CLIFF*

Welcome to Build-a-Frog!

Click here to enter

Voltron???🥺🥺🥺

Please???🥺🥺🥺

@kshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 🥺🥺🥺

the feminine urge to murder agamemnon whenever he is being sexist in tsoa

I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.

— C.S. Lewis

*stuffs pani puri into your mouth* VIBE CHECKKK <3333

paul rudd winning sexiest man alive is the only thing that's made sense in years.

Change.org

Sign the Petition

Please Retain NCERT's Teacher's Training Manual On Transgender and Non Binary Children

desiblr? can we make it happen?

@astra2111 @sassychaostrash @raaabta @maccharfucker @mydogisgaytoo @jugn00 @roseusnoctua and like everyone else as well

I'd cut my soul into a million different pieces just to form a constellation to light your way home.

— Andrea Gibson

“In college I had a physics professor who wrote the date and time in red marker on a sheet of white paper and then lit the paper on fire and placed it on a metallic mesh basket on the lab table where it burned to ashes. He asked us whether or not the information on the paper was destroyed and not recoverable, and of course we were wrong, because physics tells us that information is never lost, not even in a black hole, and that what is seemingly destroyed is, in fact, retrievable. In that burning paper the markings of ink on the page are preserved in the way the flame flickers and the smoke curls. Wildly distorted to the point of chaos, the information is nonetheless not dead. Nothing, really, dies. Nothing dies. Nothing dies.”

— Nicholas Rombes, The Absolution of Roberto Acestes Laing (via bobschofield)

spotify, pinterest and tumblr;

the holy trinity

Alienated.

Have you ever felt the urge to jump

from the tallest building,

heard the wind whispering in your ears

from the highest tree?

Have you ever thought, at least once,

that you weren't living in a world

made for your kind?

Earth cannot contain the sea.

Water cannot be shaped

by men's will, nor by their greed.

You are not from this planet,

you are not quite human, too.

The stars call you at night,

asking you to go back home;

the wind tells you the story

of how your kind carve the world.

And you close your eyes,

and listen

the voice of the Earth

calling you "son".

Have you ever felt the urge to jump?

when a girl starts growing up then all her loved ones start fading into unfamiliarity. The mouth of her mother starts spitting venomous hatred towards her growing skin. Father's opinions start falling low, shaming her for desiring extra air, outside his suffocating layers of thick curtains. The mind of her friends start revealing to be shallow, cheapening her skills to just sly trickeries. The eyes of strangers, old or young, start turning hungry, beseeching helplessly everywhere around her, to destroy.

The smell of burned dreams and an intolerable noise surrounds her, blaming her for all the impurities in the world, till she dies, sometimes even after that.

-@illusoryescapee

Is it abuse, when you were too young to realise? Is it abuse, when the criminals are your loved ones?

Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.

— George Orwell