René Margritte, The Lovers, 1928

Dita Von Teese


Stop calling ISIS the Islamic State.

You guys will go upon lengths and jump hoops to deny that the KKK are a Christian influenced group but won’t blink to say Muslim and terrorist in the same sentence.

The language you use matters. 


Stardust Memories (1980)

Marlene Dietrich

I hate that you taught me that crying and losing control of a situation is a sign of weakness. Do you know how much it ruined me? My whole relationships were a mess because of you, because you taught me to not trust anyone, to pretend that everything is perfect and that no matter what, everyone is always going to hurt you anyways so keep moving. You taught me to never appreciate what I have for what it’s worth, you taught me to move from a square to another because there’s no time to waste on things that don’t last forever. You taught me that nothing lasts forever. You taught me the joys of drinking at 11am, to get hooked on things other than life. You taught me that nothing is worth anything. I hate how you taught me that manipulation will get you further in life than honesty. You taught me to never get attached to anyone. You taught me that mentally abusing someone is correct it’s it makes you feel better. You taught me that being on your own is best, but for you, being alone always meant being lonely. You taught me that talking about yourself is selfish and that talking about your emotions is weak. You taught me that vulnerability is something I should be ashamed of. You taught me that in my everyday life you will always be there. No matter what I do or say, I know part of it is influenced by you. Even thought you’re not in my life anymore. Everyday of my life I try to become a better person, nicer, more honest and vulnerable. But you always come back to mind. I work my ass off to be the opposite of you, but it’s so hard. You built me up knowing that I could never get rid of you. I hate what you did of me. And I’m saying this only in this moment of weakness. Or vulnerability. I don’t even know how to make the difference. I’m saying this now but I know, I fucking know that I’m a wonderful woman and a great artist and that I have power and strenght and that I am worth SO MUCH MORE than you ever made me feel. I’m a woman of words, I’m a bit reckless and clumsy but I am honest when I say that the woman I am today, the one I finally appreciate and love, is nothing you ever made. I worked on my own damn self my whole life just so I could not turn into you. And god is it hard, and god I hope I don’t fall back into my old patterns and god do I wish I could do everything in just a snap of fingers but I can’t and I should be aware that it is not weakness, it is not bad. It’s only a sign that I am human. That I have feelings and emotions and that I am allowed to express them. That I don’t have to pretend anymore. That me crying, right now while typing this, doesn’t mean that I’m weak or that I’m in a vulnerable position. It just means that after everything that you taught me, I taught myself the one thing you never did. Being human. And I know that for that one thing, I will never be like you.

'September 22. Nothing.'
— Franz Kafka, Diaries 1914-1923  (via neko-loid)

Someone take me for coffee or something.