Hey y'all my name is Jessika.




 





I'm 19 years old and I'm from a little town in South Jersey, and I work at the greatest place on earth, wawa. I love mudding, country music, my cowboy boots and getting dirty. If you're looking for me I'm probably in a truck out in the woods. I love making friends with people who love the same things I do, and I love learning how to work on trucks. I used to have a 1996 Dodge Ram 1500 5.2 v8 4x4 buuuuut the transmission went and I got a tiny car until I can get another truck. I work hard for what I have and I wouldn't have it any other way. Come say hi to me

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Maya Angelou’s ‘Still I Rise’ is the resilient anthem America needs right now   (via loversturnintomonsters)

(Source: micdotcom, via 22-andinvincible)

If you’ve been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing was ever going to happen again. C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (via endangerment)

(Source: larmoyante, via missbackwoodsminnesota)

lovelifeinpeace:

Okay so if someone is having a panic attack here are a few rules.
1. Do what they ask. If they want to be alone, leave but stay close by. If they say hold me, then hold them.
2. Do not blame them for this attack. They are not doing it for attention. They aren’t doing it to make you feel a certain way. It cant be controlled.
3. Dont ignore them. This can make the person even more vulnerable and worried.

(via madisenrose-xo)

thehealthywarrior:

miamiacoda:

swaysclothingline:

asaawhiteperson:

where do you get Cheetos that big

that’s a chihuahua

Those are carrots.

this post is a mess.
old-hopes-and-boots:

Waylon Jennings by Jim McGuire, 1985.

gottafindtherightones:

I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80’s movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life…

I have unrolled a map
onto my kitchen table
and put one finger
where you are and
another where I am.

The space between
is only inches. That close,
I could feel you breathing.
I could reach out and
run my fingers through
every strand of your hair,
touch your lips and
barely need to move.

In the corner of the map
there is a guide for judging scale:
every inch a hundred miles
full of roads and rivers and trees,
the guide a sharp reminder
that you are where you are
and I am where I am,
inches apart.

Gabriel Gadfly, “Why I Hate Reading Maps” (via larmoyante)

(via downtocudddle)

cumaeansibyl:

kisssinpink:

lloveuntilwebleed:

rareandradiantmaiden:

gaymermaids:

knifeplay:

girl-bear:

campaignofdistractions:

“The monetary cost for a rape victim to receive treatment at a hospital in the United States.”

EVERYONE
EVERYONE
EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THIS

what the actual FUCK

I wish I could even be shocked

Just gonna keep reblogging this

fuck

this is the biggest crock of fucking bullshit i’ve ever fucking seen FUCK

“but why didn’t you go to the hospital?”