it's just irrelevant

Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’ — of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.

1. I’m lonely so I do lonely things 2. Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same. 3. You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood. 4. I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home. 5. You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave. 6. I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember. 7. I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless. 8. It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth. 9. I couldn’t love you, you were a small war. 10. We covered the smell of loss with jokes. 11. I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents. 12. You made the nomad in me build a house and stay. 13. I’m not a dog. 14. We were trying to prove our blood wrong. 15. I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things. 16. Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother. 17. No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot. 18. He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me. 19. You were too cruel to love for a long time. 20. It just didn’t work out. 21. My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back. 22. I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth. 23. I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home. 24. The women in my family die waiting. 25. Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you. 26. I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me. 27. You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick. 28. He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.” 29. His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile 30. We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love. 31. Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you. 32. I’m a lover without a lover. 33. I’m lovely and lonely. 34. I belong deeply to myself.

(via menstruate)

I used to be that woman who begged for love, who waited for a man to tell her she wasn’t broken….but I wasn’t broken. I became one of those women who had no room for a man because her car was full of flowers and pastries. I became one of those women that men don’t know how to love because they just weren’t quite sure where to put their hands, where to kiss. I became one of those women that men tried to capture and hold close…one of those women that slip through their fingers. You see, I fell in love with life and the wind whispered,
 ‘Why didn’t you stay? 
Why didn’t you fight?’ I did fight. 
I just didn’t fight for him anymore. 
I fought for me.

Top Posts of 2015

I’m not sad, but the boys who are looking for sad girls always find me. I’m not a girl anymore and I’m not sad anymore. You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn’t he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole.

A stranger on the internet says he wants to see me naked & these are things that I do not understand. How someone could want to fuck me without having seen the bare minimum. Without having seen the way I move or what colour my hair is or what my voice sounds like. Or if I’m even  a real person at all. A stranger on the internet asks for my snapchat before my name, says “send me something sexy”, whines and begs and demands like a four year old in a candy store. These are things I do not understand. That men genuinely believe we are turned on by unsolicited dick pics. That they think they can Lolita me, call me princess and little one and sweet heart. Strangers ask me questions like “do you like it rough?” Yeah, I like it rough when I slap duct tape on your mouth and tell you to please shut the fuck up.

…and you drink a little too much and try a little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, ‘That was fine’. And your life is a long line of fine.

They say that you remind them of a deathbed, a graveyard. Dead girl, they call you. The grim reaper. The one who knows where the bodies are buried but can’t say why. They ask why your mouth doesn’t care about the living anymore. You, the one who watched the world die, who could feel the sword push through her, the one touched by a God that no one can look in the eye. Living girl. Call yourself living girl. You, with the bat in your hands, with the voices in your head, with the echoes, the mourning. Breathing girl. Darling girl. Deathless girl. No one alive can hurt you.

[November], fold/your tender-mouth/over the corners/of ache. 
I am calling/the rain/by your name.

She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood. She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.

Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you’ll find an edge to cut you.