I was gonna write about you again.
but then I remembered you don’t care.
and I should be over this.
truthfully, I didn’t deal with it in the first place.
maybe that’s why it’s been pouring out of me lately.
the emotions and hurt, I mean.
they’re kind of drowning my fucking guts.
I want you to know I still think you’re as lovely as the sunsets I wanted to show you.
and the moon that I did.
I don’t know if you remember that but you said it was beautiful.
I remember thinking, I wish I could give it to you somehow.
because your eyes were so sad.
it would’ve been nice to see them in awe.
I looked at you in awe.
anyways, I want you to know I’m happy for you.
I’m pissed you’re not happy with me.
but that’s not really what people are supposed to say.
so I’ll just say I’m happy for you and leave it there.
I’d still give you the moon if I could.
I’d give you the whole fucking sky.
even if you wanted to share it with her instead.
I’m seriously tearing up…
im literally cry rn bc its so relevant
Lifefuck. hadn’t read this in a while
HOW TO BE THE GIRL HE WANTS:
the first time someone tells you these words I hope you stick out your hand and catch the letters in the air I hope you crunch them in your fist I hope you shove them back into the mouth they flew out of I hope and pray you are not eight years old and hanging off of a shopping cart and groaning about how bored you are, I hope you were not young like I was the first time I read a magazine on a shelf underneath the candy I hope you weren’t young because I still thought everything I read had to be true - but better yet, I hope these words never find you.
They tell you to be strong but it’s the little things like this that sit on our hips and tangle in our hair and feel like bees when the night gets dark. It’s the little things we could never ever shake off because the minute we tried, we discovered there were more waiting for us.
HOW TO LOOK GOOD FOR SUMMER:
smile more often. I hope the first time someone calls you fat, you shimmy your shoulders and wink and feel like a goddess and take it as a compliment. I hope you are not the new kid in a fifth-grade class, glasses on your nose and your hair in tangles. I hope nobody ever touched your tummy and asked if you were embarrassed by the way it jiggles. I hope if you ever hear those words, you reach out your beautiful fingers and touch the temple of the person talking and ask, “Are you embarrassed your brain works like that?”
See, I have not gained weight since the eight grade and I’m twenty. I have had about four hundred people tell me I’m skinny but it’s only the two or three voices about the thickness of my thighs and the fat on my hips - these are the only voices that stick. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Take a bath. Stare at your reflection. Count the flecks beside your iris. Promise yourself you’re not going to ruin your life - you won’t let them win. Don’t let that moment cause ripples. Yank out the cruelty from your system.
HOW TO HAVE BETTER SEX:
stop faking it. Stop engineering your body to be a call-and-response of bruises and shots. I hope you are not fifteen the first time a boy kisses you hard. I hope you do not go home with a bloody mouth and spend the rest of your life thinking love is stained with iron. I hope you are not swallowing your sanity to be with somebody. I hope the first time you let someone touch you, they are someone worthy of your trust - I hope that nobody tries to force you into a label like “frigid” or “slut.”
In the animal world, most males have bright plumage so they can attract mates. In humans, we expect ladies to look a certain way. When you break out of the norm, suddenly you’re rattling chains. How dare you not want sex and still look this way. Maybe people are scared of admitting your body has power - it can turn heads in a baggy sweatshirt. Your body doesn’t need a magazine’s confirmation. Your body’s been through hell and still keeps on living. Put on your heels and stalk down the sidewalk. Take off your makeup. Do what you need to feel awesome.
HOW TO BE COMFORTABLE IN YOUR OWN SKIN:
ignore everything they tell you. Don’t let them in.
|—||Maybe one day I’ll make a list of every single terrible magazine I’ve read. I think I’m gonna start an advice column called “If it makes them money, it’s probably not good.” /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)|
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1. When I was little, my mother told me that my ribs are there to protect my heart. It turns out you can break ribs pretty easily. They shatter the second you press too hard or meet a boy with pretty eyes who leaves your skin burning and kisses your neck. My heart is not in very good condition.
2. My freshman year of high school I read this book over and over again. I remember one line talked about how love can save you. The author forgot to mention that it can also tear you apart and fuck you up beyond repair.
3. I broke my fingers trying to pick the lock to your heart.
4. Apparently vodka isn’t the solution to everything because after the fifth shot, the only word I managed to slur was your name.
5. You know those dumb depression commercials where they show some women and there’s a black cloud following her around and it gets bigger and bigger and swallows her whole until she finally takes some fucking medication? You’re my cloud. You’re hanging over my head and swallowing me whole but pills won’t make you go away, trust me, I’ve tried.
6. It turns out words can physically hurt. They can leave you clutching at your chest and shaking. They can leave you empty. They can twist around your body and cut off your blood circulation. I learned that when you told me you didn’t love me anymore.
7. I’m not yours anymore but god I wish I was.
8. Things fall apart. Things get messy. Most of the time you can put them back together but sometimes pieces get lost and you sit there puncturing your chest with little bits of yourself but nothing fits right and suddenly there’s blood everywhere.
9. Nervous breakdowns aren’t cute.
10. Boys don’t kiss you because they love you. They kiss you because they want to taste you. I hope I’m still on the tip of your tongue. I’d do anything to get you off of mine.
11. Heartbreak is not beautiful. It’s not tasting him in your cigarettes or empty beds in lovely little hotels. It’s not rainy afternoons where the air wraps around you the way he did or cups of coffee the color of his eyes. It’s just a lot of shaking and crying and hyperventilating and blood.
12. When the fuck does it stop hurting?
|—||12 texts I never sent (via extrasad)|