Read a book not a meme
Read a book not a meme
I’m cunning but incredibly dumb, which makes you think otherwise at first. My wit is great, which would lead you to believe my thoughts are deep. They aren’t. They’re actually incredibly shallow, murky and grimy like a nasty street puddles, and I don’t care, why? ‘Cause I am a Fuck Boy
I communicate horribly, never really answering yes or no, to very direct question. When I do answer its half truths and nonsense, run arounds are my specialty. Why, cause I don’t know shit, I am Fuck Boy.
I disappear and reappear in your life when it’s convenient for me, as if nothing horrible has occurred. I try to slither my way back in through emails and Facebook inbox’s. Acting like I care, and I absolutely don’t. I am a creature of opportunity, and today might be the day you give into my advances, so I press send. Do I care if you’ve finally moved on to happy moments? Hell nah, I’m a Fuck Boy.
I am a plethora of mind fucks, very good at planting seeds of insecurity. The master of the flip, diverting all bad energy off of me. At the end of every argument you’re left thinking “wait, maybe I am crazy”. What if I told you, you have never been crazy. But simply a victim of me, a Fuck Boy.
I’m selfish, and my feelings are most important, yours are always secondary. I’m a lot of mess, and seek women who like to tend to them. Who have a desire to be the cure, who think they have the power to rehabilitate me. There’s no fixing me sweetie, I am a Fuck Boy
I’m a festering boil that only gets worse before it gets better. I swell with puss and become something ugly, and you keep tending to me. One day i’ll explode. All the nasty smelly mucus I’ve acquired will spill on to you. All of me that has rotted, died and I no longer need, I will release on to you. You’ll look up covered in my musty, excrement and will ask me “Why? Why would I do this to you, to a person who cared and loved you unconditionally” and i’ll look back to you as I walk away from you, on to my next conquest and simply reply “Cause I am who I am, I am who you met me as, and I live life the only way I know how, as A Fuck Boy.
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The Illuminator projected this near the Brooklyn Bridge in solidarity with the people of Ferguson.
I love how the photographer captured the freedom tower next to the visual. And I love how they chose a building that would make this all come together perfectly.
Avoid these ridiculous statements while speaking with a black woman.
Y’all can keep your think pieces or dissertations on why an android is better than an iPhone. We don’t fucking care.
We’re working selfishly. Expecting to see the crop of your seed in your lifetime. That’s not how it works. Life is bigger than you
You definitely don’t have to agree but I’ve been asked this question a few times this week and now I’m seeing it on my tumblr feed, so here are my thoughts. A woman participating in a gang bang doesn’t make her hoe, in fact I think the fact that a women even has the guts, and sexual prowess to…
Reading this was comforting as hell, I’ve only just recently got comfortable calling myself a writer, but I’ve always lived life feeling like I was a lot of things, not just one. Never cared, or care about fitting in, cause I’m so used to that not being the case. I’m always popular, always part of the cool kids, but I never feel like I belong.
Maybe I’ll stop trying to be one person, and just be the many people that I am
I was featured in a NYC newspaper last week. I’ve wanted to see my name in a paper since I was a little girl so this made me extremely happy.
Naima Muhammad, 30, who writes under the pen name “Queen” for afropunk.com and has tweeted her experiences and blogged about them on Thequeenspeaks on Tumblr and MSVIXENMAG.COM, said social media is indispensable for getting a conversation going about the daily, casual degradation women experience in New York City.
The East New York writer silenced a male commenter on Twitter who insisted that women were flattered by harassment by pointing out that women were no more deserving of his assumptions than young men were of being racially profiled.
Following the Twitter hashtag #YouOkSis, which is devoted to de-escalating street aggression, particularly aggression against women of color, taught her not to look the other way when witnessing the harassment of another female.
"Now, if I see another woman looking uncomfortable, I ask her" if she’d like help, she explained. Click link for full article