You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide.

My Name is Bowen and this is my tumblr blog. I'm very open about a lot of things so if you ever have a question my ask box is open. Thank you!


Call me: 203.695.3493
I like to text too.

 

Anonymous asked
(hug anon) no i think you have my number anyways and i'm super duper shy

hecka lame man. do it! it’s okay, I understand shyness but I’m telling you there’s nothing to be afraid of :)

Anonymous asked
(hug anon) i'm sorry for making you chat via tumblr asks you said to text you but i am forever shy

do it! you’ll still be anon :)

I’m embarrassed by my mirror selfies and I think I’m sick 💣

I’m embarrassed by my mirror selfies and I think I’m sick 💣

my icon hasnt changed in years

this is bold text

Anonymous asked
thank u for the hug pls continue talking to me

yknow i hate having a chat on tumblr back and forth through messages. why dont you text me instead? my number is on my blog and open for anyone. don’t be shy

Anonymous asked
do you like giving hugs because i am in need of a hug.

hell yeah bring it in. hug it out yo. im here for a hug and i aint leaving without one

red-lipstick:

Tim Parchikov (b. 1983, Moscow, Russia) - Untitled, from the series Burning News, 2011      Photography

red-lipstick:

Tim Parchikov (b. 1983, Moscow, Russia) - Untitled, from the series Burning News, 2011      Photography

this is my first poem I ever wrote with just myself in mind. still you’re creeping in.

this isn’t about me
stuck in gray water, I do not float

it’s rushing into my face filling my eyes with smoke and ash that gets peeled off of my fingers every night.
I’ve got a stuffy nose and a heart that can’t be beat, made out of the same stones found in the gravel of my head.
the gravel walked on everyday by my new shoes that already have holes in them.

I still wear those shoes everyday not to remind myself of anything
in particular,
not even because they’re comfortable.
they’ve grown on me.
they belong in every self portrait that’s made and every promise I fill my lungs with the same smoke dripping bullets out of my eyes.
I don’t want gray water to fall out and splash on my shoes or onto the gravel anymore.
I want to float but I can’t change anything about myself without making you look less beautiful in my own cloudy pupils.
I’ll never stop drowning until I start swimming.

when my arms reach forward and pull back my fingers through my own murky water, maybe then I’ll start to swim, and when i learn to swim maybe I’ll learn to float.

and then everything will be blue all at once.

browningtons:

Even if you don’t know what machinima is please watch this video.