— (via emptly)
We live in a society that glorifies sexual assault to a degree that when I was a teenager I asked myself whether something was wrong with me for not being groped in the streets. The pride with which my classmates spoke of how apparently every random male hit on them made me wonder whether I was just too ugly to be desired. Something is rotten when harassment becomes the means young girls are taught to determine their self-worth with.
speaking of art history
this is Undine by Chauncey Bradley Ives. she’s at the Smithsonian.
and this is her from the back
that is marble, y’all.
carved so thin you can SEE THE LIGHT THROUGH IT.
fucking art, y’all.
the realism of thin fabric folding and draping over a freaking perfectly sculpted body is killing me
the thing about the ultimate cosmic meaninglessness of man is that you can either wallow in your insignificance and the attendant pain that brings in a culture so obsessed with fame and being important,
or you can fall in love with literally everything and everyone in a dozen small ways because everything still exists despite the statistical unlikelihood of it all and that’s a goddamn miracle
— Aubrey Plaza (via sadsappyfucker)