Salve-se quem quiser, perca-se quem puder. Instagram: @sofiapolich
  • I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you.

    Me too. Now we know how.

    (Source: kubrickit, via danedehaan)

  • Confusão existencial:


    eu não sei se me acho ou me perco nesse meu vazio de existir.

    (via oh-doutor)

    (Source: regou)

  • W. R.

    This poem was inspired by actual tweets from the #YesAllWomen trend on twitter. X

    (via ecartum)

    (Source: slytheringirl69, via ecartum)

  • "


    Because my cousin shared 3 rape experiences she had
    And on all three occasions
    She was wearing sweats and was brutally beaten

    So there goes your excuse
    That my tight dress was asking for it
    It might have escaped your attention,
    But I don’t wake up in the mornings,
    And put on a skirt thinking,
    Will this get me raped?
    I don’t put on a tank top hoping,
    Maybe this one will.


    Because in school, they teach us that our bodies are offensive.

    They pull us from classrooms
    And hallways
    Demanding if we have longer shorts,
    Or even a sweater,
    Reminding us that the boys are distracted,
    That the boys go wild for a peeking shoulder,
    Or the sight of a sun burned thigh,
    Because their education is more important than ours.


    Because white men in pressed suits,
    Expensive watches hanging from their wrists,
    Red faces glinting with arrogance,
    Have more say over my body than I do.

    Because those same men,
    Quoting the Bible and fake statistics,
    Have never shed blood,
    As a twisted sacrifice for being a woman.

    Because those same men,
    Have never walked the streets,
    Fearing for their lives,
    Clinging to keys between their fingers like a lifeline
    With pepper spray in their bags,
    Ready for someone to feel entitled to their body.


    Because when a man says no to us,
    It is a fault in OUR character.
    It is because we are not
    Thin, tan, or perky enough for HIM.

    Because when WE say no to a man,
    Its still a fault in OUR character,
    We are the cold, ruthless bitch,
    Saying no to the nice guy,
    Who offered to buy us a drink,
    And Who complimented our hair.


    Because a UCSB entitled nine-teen year old boy,
    Can record a video
    Of his plans to shoot down all the
    “Blond bimbos who denied him his right,”
    And then do so,
    Only to have his actions excused by the media,
    Claiming he was depressed,
    Instead of admitting that male entitlement is dangerous.


    Because I am done being silenced
    And I am done being polite.
    I am done sitting by
    And watching
    As a country hypocritically cries
    Equality and justice
    But doesn’t have equal pay
    Lets men make decisions for a woman’s body
    And blames the victim for the actions of a rapist.


    Because our NO won’t be enough one day.


    Because I wasn’t asking for it.


    Because “Boys Will Be Boys,” is still an excuse


    Because “Not All Men Are Like That,” is still a defense.


    Because enough blood has been spilled.


    Because I am sixteen years old, and I am so afraid, when I shouldn’t have to be.

  • Charles Bukowski.  (via indubio)

    (Source: recomendar, via indubio)

  • "Os mortos são fáceis de encontrar – estão por toda a parte à nossa volta; a dificuldade está em achar os que estão vivos. Repare na primeira pessoa com quem cruzar na calçada lá fora – os olhos já não guardam qualquer cor; o modo de caminhar é brutal, desajeitado, feio; mesmo os cabelos parecem brotar de maneira doentia. Há ainda outros tantos sinais de morte: um deles é uma sensação de radiação, os mortos emitem verdadeiros raios, o fedor de suas almas que podem arruinar o nosso apetite para o almoço caso o contato dure muito tempo."
  • "But I have infinite tenderness for you. I always will. All my life long.” - Blue is the warmest color (2013)

    (Source: canibale, via gastownlights)