I am a poet, an empath, a philosopher, an ambivert, an artist, and a force in constant motion. I believe in nakedness, marijuana, kindness, coffee, the smell of gray skies, and doing something good in the world.
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We looked inside some of the posts by thebosslady4-blog and here's what we found interesting.
Average Info
Notes Per Post
28K
Likes Per Post
17K
Reblog Per Post
11K
Reply Per Post
44
Time Between Posts
20 hours
Number of Posts By Type
Photo
7
Text
10
Last Seen Tumblr Blogs
Fun Fact
Tumblr was acquired by Yahoo for $1.1B in 2013.
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Etched
We started etching our pains Into our skin Long before we crossed paths And little did we know Our names were already written In the stars. And the mountains to climb And the scars to heal Were stepping stones To sharing a space That harmony envies. This body is not my own It is a part of a whole Long known by the heart The head forgotten How to let go Of a world Unforgiving And without place No structure in this space Where my enlightened frame Blossomed. This shape is half of one It is one piece That fits To resound the beauty In failure In struggle In dissapointment And grief. We grew Lines extended As we began To learn together That this is what finally Bound us together.
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“Before I met you I only played at sex. Your fingers spoke a whole New language on my skin. You stole my breath with open lips. There was fire like I’ve never felt before in your kiss.”
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“There are no safe choices. There are only choices. And if you aren’t willing to take a risk, you might as well be miserable your entire life, and spend it asking yourself, “What if?””
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"Anxiety is an invalid excuse."
Anxiety is an invalid excuse. I know this because my work only allows ten absences per year. My only saving grace is that one of my managers believes me. I’ve officially been categorized, embossed, labeled with the word “disabled.” I feel like a sick scam. Who am I to say I’m hindered when there’s nothing visibly wrong with me: when some days I function at 110 percent and nothing can hold me back. I feel like a disrespectful fool calling myself disabled when I have a condition so loosely defined, so casual. I have no right to categorize myself as someone with real life problems. There are many who have it much worse than me. And because my vices cannot be seen from the surface they’re perceived as fake. It’s a bittersweet sentiment knowing my flaws are beautifully misunderstood in a way that allows me to pretend they don’t exist while someone is watching. I thrive in the precious moments I spend being normal. I cripple in the instances I must try to explain the place I’m coming from, the place no one will ever truly understand until they feel their heart stop beating in their chest only to accelerate far past a normal rhythm, blood rushing to their head until the whole world fades away to a crystallized screen of anxiety. I’m sure the doctor’s letter sent to each of my employers makes them think I’m just a girl with low self-esteem who whines and pouts my way through life, looking for shallow excuses to half-ass my work. But I want to succeed. I want to live. To live comfortably. That’s my dream.
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“If you wake it, you must tend to it. If you love it, you must keep it. If you hate it, you must leave it.”
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Transitive Properties
I trust you. You trust me. I trust her. She trusts me. Therefore, by the transitive property of partner trust, you can trust each other.
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My comfort zone?
Obviously not where the magic happens.
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“Fun? You fuckin’ douche.”
— Zack & Miri Make A Porno
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Self Diagnosed
I would diagnose myself as a worrisome mother.
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