See what’s real and enjoy it(Love).

     Growing up I always thought true love was red roses, dates on Saturday nights, little block box that held expensive things, and always knowing what to say. I thought true love was a kiss in the rain, deep explanations, and the perfect story. But now that I’m older I’ve realized it’s not like that at all.

See because true love for me is ugly snapchats, and peeing while you’re on the phone. True love is kissing at 6 AM despite the morning breath and singing at the top of your lungs. It’s saying all the wrong things, at all the wrong moments. It’s sarcasm and being honest even when it hurts. It’s late hours of the night when it’s been a long day and it’s no make up and bad hair. It’s tears from laughter, it’s tears from sadness and it’s nothing like any storybook you’ve ever read. It’s never running out of things to talk about, and it’s being comfortable in the silence of things. True love is watching The Titanic though you swore you never would. It’s getting mad over stupid things. It’s “you’re an idiot,” and “you’re a little shit” and knowing you’re so lucky to hear those every day. It’s spilling your feelings at 4 AM when you should be asleep. It’s that song you hear on the radio that always makes you smile. It’s the worst story you could imagine, but thank God it worked out anyways. True love is never losing the magic. True love is not leaving when things get hard.

I like my definition better anyways.

Another Piece About You 


By Naomikko

She is meant to be loved.

If you find a woman
with a wild heart
do not try to tame her.
You must adore her
recklessly, the way
she is meant to be loved.

Do not try to quiet her,
for her roars will reach
far and wide.
She has something
important to say.
Help her say it.

Do not get in her way.
She stops for no one.
Do not try to change
the path she has chosen.
Learn also to love the wind
and let it change you.

C.B. Wild-Hearted Woman


By Naomikko

I am a woman, hear me roar.

I once dated a boy who told me that I could never be dainty, (as if that were something I was striving for) he said that I was too edgy for that (as if this were a bad thing.) I wonder if he knows that boys like him are the reason my mom bought me pepper-spray for graduation instead of the cute mini skirt I wanted. Boys like him are the reason my throat is coated with razor blades instead of honey. Boys like him are the reason my gender is the most insulting term in society today and also the reason I have to run the dark spaces between street lamps like young boys used to run across no mans land in WW1. Boys like that are the reason that there is always a scream building up in the back of my throat, the reason that I took self defense classes in the 7th grade instead of going to cotillion. Those boys think of bitch as the most derogatory term in their arsenal because apparently it is better to spread your legs than to spread your opinion – boys like that are the reason that being a bitch is worse than being a whore. When that boy told me I could never be dainty I let my sharp edges cut his supposed “insult” in half. Boys like him do not deserve girls like me. My lips have turned into razor blades and my tongue into a knife, my bite is much worse than my bark. I am not the weaker sex by any means: my body has the power to make boys like him lose their inhibitions entirely. I refuse to be dainty just because it is what boys expect of me. I have spent years sharpening my edges, preparing for battle. I am woman, hear me roar.
― the midnight writings of my best friend Carly Ebinger
Source: Tumblr
By Naomikko

We should fall in love with a beautiful mind.

When they ask me about my future wife, I always tell them that her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long. I tell them that she has a walk that can make an atheist believe in God just long enough to say, ‘God damn’. I tell them that if my alarm clock sounded like her voice, my snooze button would collect dust. I tell them that if she came in a bottle, I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys. I tell them that if she was a book, I would memorize her table of contents. I would read her, cover to cover, hoping to find typos, just so we could both have something to work on, because aren’t we all unfinished?
― Rudy Francisco, A Lot Like You
By Naomikko

Sad, but true.

“You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world and there’s still going to be someone who hates peaches.”

- Dita von Teese

By Naomikko

Ştiaţi că…

Ştiaţi că…

marilyn monroe…Marilyn Monroe a avut 11 degete la picioare?

…Hitler şi Napoleon aveau fiecare numai câte un testicul?

…persoanele dreptace trăiesc în general cu şapte ani mai mult decât persoanele stângace?

…când strănuţi, toate funcţiile corpului se opresc, chiar şi inima?

…Brazilia este singura ţară care a jucat în fiecare Cupă Mondială?

…dacă iei orice număr, îl dublezi, aduni 10, împărţi prin 2 şi apoi scazi numărul iniţial, răspunsul va fi 5?

…Winston Churchill a fost născut într-o toaletă a femeilor în timpul unui dans?

 …inima unei femei bate mai repede decât cea a unui bărbat?

…în America de Nord creşte un copac (pe care băştinaşii îl numesc „pomul dracului”), a cărui coajă conţine foarte mult fosfor, încât noaptea, lângă tulpina lui, se poate citi ca în orice sală de lectură?

…jocul de cărţi a fost inventat de chinezi în 1120?

…fructele culese în orele de dimineaţă sau de seară sunt mult mai gustoase decât cele culese la amiază?

…în pădurile tropicale, unde nu se schimbă anotimpurile, copacii nu au inele anuale?

…pensatul sprâncenelor devine nedureros dacă în prealabil se anesteziază arcada cu un cub de gheaţă?

…câteva picături de zeamă de lămâie puse în nări desfundă nasul fără să dea dependenţă. Tratamentul e cam neplăcut, dar sigur?

…China reprezintă consumatorul de carne de porc numărul unu pe plan mondial?

…vacile nu au dinţi superiori?

…la naştere, crevetele este mascul, apoi, pe măsură ce creşte, devine femelă?

…peştii de apă sărată beau apă, iar cei de apă dulce nu?

…podul Universităţii din Boston (pe Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, Massachusetts) este singurul loc din lume unde un vapor trece pe sub un tren, care trece pe sub o maşină, care trece pe sub un avion?

…o singură persoană din două miliarde trăieşte 116 ani sau mai mult?


revista “Lumea”, Nr. 7/2014

By Naomikko



This song is touching my heart! Hope that you’ll enjoy it too.

P.S: Hello, you ,gorgeous people! Please have an amazing day and remember :when you’re already down, the only way to go is up.

By Naomikko

A picat un mar si au descoperit gravitatia, au mai picat alte milioane de suflete si tot nu au descoperit umanitatea…

By Naomikko

What Happens When People Write About Race or Gender or the Intersextionality of Those Things?

Originally posted on What a Witch:

If you thought, “It leads to a reasoned discussion of those subjects and everyone learns and grows,” can I please have some of whatever it is you are having? Pretty please? Because it is obviously some extremely good shit.

When #NotAllMen blew up and women replied with #YesAllWomen, one of the main issues the women talking about what pervasive misogyny does to us had to deal with was the vitriolic backlash by men. In order to get tot the factual issue, that being a female in the world is dangerous and that we must be constantly aware of that danger, we had to wade through a river of whining about how much pointing out those simple facts hurt men.

When a Woman of Color pointed out that watching white, gay, males use a stereotypically black voice to entertain themselves and their friends was hurtful and, you know, blatant cultural…

View original 476 more words

By Naomikko

A good advice

When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Do not.
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Not one.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next.

How To Pretend It Doesn’t Hurt, by Ashe Vernon



By Naomikko

Pretty hurts

“Do not try to be pretty. You weren’t meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don’t let anyone ever simplify you to just “pretty.””

Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me
By Naomikko