I never lived the life of ‘Oh, you’re so good-looking’. People thought I was a girl when I was little, because I looked like a girl-maybe because my mother would keep my hair really long in a bowl cut. I was in a coffee shop once and the waitress was like, ‘What do you want, Miss?’ I was 10 or 11-the worst age to have that happen. I had a jean jacket on and a Metallica pin. I thought I was really cool.
I feel like every guy’s taste right now is girls with tattoos that wear beanies and disco pants.
I like weathered men. The type that look permanently tired, whose minds you know are full of wisdom and chaos. Something is so endearing about being able to melt a tough exterior, about becoming an essential part of someone who once lived happily without you.
But I should probably stop daydreaming and go do my homework.
I don’t know if enough people follow my blog for this to be a big deal but the “thisiswhiteprivilege” page is completely blown out of proportion