Hey there, I'm Hannah. I'm a seventeen year old singer from the wonderful land of England. I love music and I love tv. -- Joe Brooks, Supernatural, Merlin, Doctor Who and Sherlock are just a few of my all time favorites.
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you are in college
you are female 
you have a pretty good idea of what you want to do with your life 
you are short (under 5’4)
you text a lot
you are single
you like a lot of different kinds of music 
you are close with your mom
you don’t have a job 
you have a horrible fear of bees
you have quite a few guilty pleasures 
you don’t have many scars
you stay up late 
you dye your hair
you enjoy iced coffee
you drink occasionally 
you like to shop
your grades are fairly good
you are lazy 
you are paranoid
you have a dog 
you would consider going to law school
you would consider plastic surgery of some kind
you are somewhat superstitious 
your first name is short (4 letters or less) 
you have/had a piercing other than ears 
you are not very athletic 
you watch a lot of television 
you read a lot 
you get nervous easily
you have blue eyes 
you are disorganized 
you feel that you are friendly 
you donate time or money to charitable organizations
you don’t hear very well
you are pale
people ask for your advice 
& you also ask for advice a lot 
you like sushi 
you’ve been out of the country
you have a food allergy
you sleep with a stuffed animal 
summer is your favorite season
your birthday is in the spring
your parents are divorced 
you have moved multiple times
people think you are funny
but you have a weird sense of humor 
you carry a purse
you think a lot 
you meditate 
you seem shy, but only when you first meet someone
you like parties
something on your body hurts right now
you have a sensitive nose 
you often have strange dreams 
you are a bit on the hyper side

(Source: surveyhaven)

Notes
33052
Posted
2 hours ago

pleathe:

this is how i feel when i listen to the weeknd

image

(via fuckyeahzarry)

Notes
84
Posted
2 hours ago
Anonymous asked: I am strongly contemplating suicide. I'll just stay home tomorrow and do it. I've tied up the noose and everything already.


Answer:

art-by-hailey:

speedyturtlebutt:

ninjakato:

stardroid:

Anon. I’m going to share something personal with you today. And with all of tumblr, too.

Do you see this photo?

image

This is one of the few photos I have left of my mother and I. And the only one that’s digital, too.

I was about four years old in that photo. Shortly after that photo was taken, I was placed into foster care because of my mother’s mental conditions and her inability to care for me. Which was fine, it was the right thing to do.

She was taken overseas to a very good mental health clinic in Paris, which is where we came from. 

My mother had a lot of problems. Among them were her multiple personality disorder and her bipolar. She stayed in hospital for most of my life, and battled depression and her suicidal tendencies. She went through a lot, including electro-shock therapy. Nothing seemed to help. She was a very lost and very hurt woman.

And one day, on Mother’s Day of 2008, my foster parents received a phone call at about 1am from the mental hospital my mother was staying in.

My mother had hung herself in the shower of her bathroom. Her mental illnesses, her lack of access to me and the things she’d suffered through her life had snapped her. And she was gone.

I was thirteen years old. Nobody told me until the sun had risen. I left my room, ready for school. And then I was sat down, and I was told.

And I was numb.

I felt nothing, for months. Months, and months, and months.

I was a very good student at school. I got distinctions, and straight A’s. And all of that kind of just… stopped. 

The full extent of my loss didn’t hit me until years later, when I was sixteen.

And it hasn’t stopped hurting since.

I miss my mother every day. I barely got to know her, but I knew she loved me. And I ache every time I see someone walk by with their parents, or a little girl with her mother. It’s even cost me several relationships. It hurts. I can’t take it. Can’t do it.

You know the kind of woman my mother was? Kind. Smart. Thoughtful. She was a painter, and a lover of music. We lived in Australia when I was growing up, but she always loved France. In fact, it was her name. I recall my foster mother’s comment when she met her for the first time when she came back to Australia to visit me. She said how talking to my mother was like talking to your best friend. One you hadn’t seen in years. The joy in her voice, her smile.

I can’t even remember what she sounds like anymore.

Suicide? I’ve wanted to do it. Several times. It’s been tempting. Pressure builds inside your chest, and you can’t cry anymore. You feel nothing and it’s clearly just logical to end it because there’s no point living in a void anymore.

You feel like there’s no one else out there for you. You’re alone, and nobody understands.

Anon, let me tell you.

I understand. I’ve seen both sides of this coin. Nobody wins.

I know what it’s like to want to not exist. I spend half my days pretending to be mechanical because being human and alive is just too much of  a burden sometimes. But I also know what it feels like to be left behind.

It’s searing.

After the loss of my mother, I lost three more people to suicide. One was my uncle, and two others were good friends. One of them was one of my best friend.

I don’t know who you are, Anon. But I’d like to.

I’d like to know who you are so I can stop you from feeling this way. You’re not alone. And if you are? I’ll be the first to open my arms to you.

Death is not an answer, nor by any means a door to something greater.

Death is for those who have finished in this life. We are not meant to go before our time, and especially not alone.

I’m nineteen now. If my mother were still alive, she’d be thirty-eight.

It’s too young.

You’re too young.

To you, anon, and to everyone else out there who’s ever felt this way.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Come to me, if you have to.

Go to someone. Anyone. Please.

You’re so much more than a statistic.

You’re worth so much more than tears.

You mean so much more than every person who has ever stamped you into the ground. Called you names. Failed to accept you because you don’t fit into their criteria of human. Spurned you, or ignored you. 

I know this pain. And I know what happens when that pain consumes you.

Please. Don’t go.

I don’t know you. But your life means something. 

I promise it means something.

I am legitimately crying… 

Please, Anon. LISTEN TO THIS. 
SERIOUSLY. 

Listen. 

Im sobbing so hard

Reblogging so everyone can read this beautiful message and hopefully stop future suicide attempts.

Notes
2039
Posted
2 hours ago
just-say-aloha:

merpjake:

lookitsace:

departured:

Giraffes in a tunnel? We always reblogged giraffes in a tunnel

Omy I’m so happy now

HE CLEANS HIS FUCKING TEETH

i cannot stop watching

just-say-aloha:

merpjake:

lookitsace:

departured:

Giraffes in a tunnel? We always reblogged giraffes in a tunnel

Omy I’m so happy now

HE CLEANS HIS FUCKING TEETH

i cannot stop watching

(Source: rebbylau, via lordofthechickennuggets)

Notes
556539
Posted
3 hours ago

leftists:

In fifth grade we were making little clay statues and mine came out shitty so I left a big air pocket in it so it would explode when the teacher put it in the kiln and it exploded so hard it destroyed ten other kids’s statues and they were all on the verge of tears I thought it was really funny I still do

(Source: chekhov, via feelingthe-spot-on-my-chest)

Notes
229146
Posted
3 hours ago

spaghetticunt:

urtube:

lms if you’re a 90’s kid and remember columbus coming to america

1492 represent

(via queenlydss)

Notes
52157
Posted
3 hours ago

isrealforus:

Watching my favourite tv series or movie:

image

(via queenlydss)

Notes
92364
Posted
4 hours ago
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