Have the courage to be exactly who you are without apology.
Iyanla Vanzant  (via ahautemesslove)
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Today's Document
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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@amageelen
Have the courage to be exactly who you are without apology.
Iyanla Vanzant  (via ahautemesslove)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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for twenty-year-olds who have never been loved
All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a loverâs sweater or âforgottenâ it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like theyâre both having a separate anxiety attack.
This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth?
The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is âwondering what itâs like to meet someone like you,â and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-âem-up drug, and theyâre just about ready to inject it into someone elseâs bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen.
At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and youâd still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone elseâs hands were on your waist, someone elseâs eyes boring into yours.
Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day youâre going to hit the point where youâre so desperate for human contact that youâre going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk.
But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that youâve done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting.
The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, theyâre looking for a lover too. Theyâre what you might call a soulmate.
They think theyâre all alone in feeling the way they do, but youâre really both two halves of a whole.
And one day youâll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and youâll make one.
Never apologize for burning too brightly or collapsing into yourself every night. That is how galaxies are made.
Tyler Kent White (via blissfvlcity)
Women are a balancing act Donât eat too much, donât eat too little. Donât be fat, donât be too skinny. God do you ever stop eating? Woah do you ever eat? The not-so-well-concealed looks of disgust, the not-so-well-concealed looks of concern. Donât be loud. Donât be quiet. Have a voice in society, leave the talking to the big boys. You want something, speak up! No, no, when itâs your turn, sweetie. Ugh, she never shuts up, itâs obnoxious. Have you ever heard her talk? I donât even know what her voice sounds like. Make sure your skirt is long enough, but not too long. Donât make yourself too available, but you donât want to look like a grandma. Show off what you got, but if you do itâs your fault if anything happens. Was your skirt long enough? How is any boy going to look at you if you wear that? Have sex, but stay innocent. Give us what we want, but we hate sluts. Virgins are so sweet. What do you mean you want to stay abstinent until marriage? Do you even live in our society? Life without sex is boring. Life with sex is disgusting. God, have you seen her? Sheâs banged every guy in the school. God, have you seen her? Still a virgin at her age. Be smart, but not too smart. Boys like a smarter girl. Boys canât stand it when you know more than them. Play dumb. Ugh, not that dumb, god, werenât you even listening? They like a smarter girl. No, no, now you just look like a nerd. Girls donât belong in the classroom, they have to take care of the kids. You want a well-paying job? Take some incentive and study. You canât slack off because youâre a girl. Do what you love, but donât. Be yourself, unless it goes against what we say. Do you love to do your hair and makeup? Great, youâre good to go. Approved. Do you love videogames and guns? Youâre faking it. Youâre lying. Youâre pretending. Youâre wrong
Balancing Act. A little piece I wrote because Iâm tired of walking on the beam. (via bigsisterelsa)
when told you are not pretty
Pretty is a six-letter word that canât encompass your entire being in its arms. You were born to a mother who wore pain like trees wear their rings, as marks of fierce bravery and battle cries. You almost split her insides open coming out, wailing so hard the plaster cracked, but she grinned and bore it like a champion, even though the walls of her womb felt like one giant cigarette burn that no one cared enough to put out.
You are Icarus incarnate, with a body stitched from wings, flying toward the sun every day no matter how low the storm clouds hover. Pretty is not a synonym for learning how to put together a body that fights itself every day with pocket knives, like assembling letters to form words that flame in the mouth. Thatâs called survival. Pretty is an ugly word. It leaves behind a bitter residue that apologies cannot erase. Pretty is just an excuse for playing darts with a womanâs confidence.
When told you are not pretty, always remember how your body expanded to fit its widening cage, its blooming hips, how the growing pains were less like pain and more like cracking fault lines. How your body turned itself inside out and spilled over and over again. Getting emptied is not pretty. It is dark and wounding and it requires strength enough to move mountains.
On your worst days do not look in the mirror and call yourself pretty. Call yourself trying, call yourself surviving, call yourself learning how to get through a day, a week, a month or year. Call yourself still learning. Pretty is just six letters for lipstick, false eyelashes, combs for hair that never gets tangled, not for women who earn a victory every day just managing to exist.
When told you are not pretty, do not suck in your stomach. Pretty is a discriminatory word, but having a body that knows what it wants and gets what it wants is not a hate crime. Itâs a healing hymn.
Donât forget how trees shake their last leaves in winter like theyâre shedding skin from the old year. Shed pretty. Shed it now. Teach yourself to replace it with heart-wrenching, brilliant, clever, artistic, unique, understanding, fighting. Always living.
When told you are not pretty, donât fall in love with the ground. Get back up. This is not an apocalypse; this is not the end of the world. A six-letter word doesnât have the power to burn down every building in site or freeze the entire world in epic proportions. Your body is not wreckage or refuse left over from a world on fire. Your body is just fine.
Look in the mirror. Tell yourself, Pretty is not me. Pretty is an ugly concept. I am more.
Say it. Say it.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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âWhen you become a woman you celebrate who you are and know that sensuality is a gift. This gift gives you power. This power that you can manipulate. This power can celebrate. What would you do with this power? would you let go? would you surrender? I can make you surrender. If you make the right selection the passion can intensify like a drug. Are you high right now? Can you reach me? Harnessing the power of your body requires responsibility seduction is much more than beauty, it is generous, it is intelligence, it is mysterious, it is exclusive. So tonight i chose you. So tonight ill be your naughty girl.â â Beyoncè
(via her-majestyy)