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This was an adorable little moment in Marie’s vlog aw best friends (x)

"I hope one day
Your human body
Is not a jail cell,
Instead it’s a sunny
2pm garden with daisies
Thriving because of
Self love."

Alexa Evangelista, you deserve better (via vodkakilledtheteens)


seventeen rants in four minutes.

Well, my name is Victoria and I am eighteen years young.

So I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you who I am, but recently I’ve learned that identity is much more than a name and an age.

I can, however, tell you some of the things that I love. I love sunsets, and I don’t have the words to tell you why. I love getting lost in a really good book, so much so that it’s all you think about, and a little bit of you dies when the book finishes. I love how a thousand people can pick up the same pen and write completely differently. I love exploring. I love museums. I love music. I love languages. I love rainbows. I love my friends and family more than anything in the world, and they will always be the most important people to me.

Surprises make me uncomfortable, I hate being the centre of attention, and I don’t like it when people wink at me. I get confused really, really easily. Trying to sort out my thoughts and feelings, feels like I’m trying to do a 1000 piece puzzle with one hand tied behind my back, when I haven’t even seen the picture. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, or who I am, or who I want to be. But that’s okay, and it took me a really long time to realize that. I am not what happened to me in high school, I am not the labels the world has given me, or that I’ve given myself, and I am not confined to a stereotype. I am the books I read, the films I watch, the music I listen to, the people I meet, the dreams I have, the conversations I engage in. I am what I take from these.

I’m not fascinated by people who smile all the time. What I find interesting is the way people look when they are lost in thought, when their face becomes angry or serious, when they bite their lip, the way they glance, the way they look down when they walk, when they are alone and smoking a cigarette, when they smirk, the way they half smile, the way they try and hold back tears, the way when their face says they want to say something but can’t, the way they look at someone they want or love. I love the way people look when they do these things. It’s… beautiful.

Anyway, I’m sorry you wasted your time reading this. But because you did, I love you. And we’re friends now. I hope that’s okay.

Love always, Victoria

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