Herself she is often misleadingly

6% of people say it is not rape if a woman is very drunk or asleep

Cute date idea ..

“sometimes i like to imagine we are socks in a dryer tumbling apart and together apart and together only convinced that we are warm because our entire world is rolling faster than we can keep up with but catastrophe is no place for love on nights when you fall asleep crying and i watch the lights dim on your face and you dig your fingers into my back and we tell each other we’ll be okay on nights like those i can convince myself being there is all we need but catastrophe is no place for love there is such a thing as the right people in the wrong time and place and you told me you were sorry i found you when ruin was the only girl who made sense i don’t know why i tried to make it work i don’t know why i let myself follow you to your worst and why i couldn’t take you back with me.”

“she. my favorite three letter word. there is so much hidden in her context. like a world shaken by her hand and its unexpected strength. like her soft whisper finding its way to me through the whips of wind and gruff boasts from others who think they can capture her. like the sweat dripping from her brow when she is holding up her pride or her body or her reason or her heart. like how she has enough grace to break a man in two while still being able to keep her fists to her side and her makeup intact. like how there are many forms of she and not one of them is lesser than the other. like how she can be inconsolable because she understands the full weight of loss and she lets herself feel it all. like how she continues to usurp and unfetter herself from her chains every day she chooses to rise.”

“funny how much space we leave in between years. i remember distinctly, last year i was on my bed, heart swollen in my chest, practically floating like a red balloon, childlike crush stained my cheeks. the lights surrounding me swam like fluorescent lily pads and my whims were out at sea unconcerned with coming home, i was so entranced by the vastness of everything that existed outside certainty and reason. funny how one year later, the bold letters showing you as a mutual friend catch me off guard, like a headline from yesterday’s news implicating an old acquaintance for murder. and to think i knew your favorite fable and how you got the scar under your chin and what you never wanted to be when you grew up and now i am finding you in scraps online, surprised that you knew a girlfriend of a girlfriend of an ex. i am tempted to look for a green light to say that you are awake as if that would mean i have something to reach out to. funny how one year later you are in the six degrees of separation and i am a bad decision away from breaking through this mythic barrier, collapsing all the space we put in between 365 days. maybe we’ll laugh about it soon.”

“do you wake into your feelings or do you form them based on whether or not it’s raining outside? sometimes i wonder if emotions are on automation and if so, why did my mechanic put the best ones on the lowest settings. i don’t know how to describe it but when someone asks me how i’m doing sometimes i want to say i don’t know but all that matters is i’m doing. if you asked me for a self-portrait, you’re confusing me for a visual artist, but i can tell you the image that comes to mind is a skid mark left behind by someone who was going somewhere with intention. i don’t like when my mind is all fireworks because nothing i say really makes sense, but if you ask me if i’m alright, i can tell you the plumbing to the house is working but i’ve turned on all the faucets and left them running. or maybe i will say that i imagine the heart as a bruise and there are days when i wonder what would happen if i just stopped pressing it. maybe i am just sad but what a wonder it would be if i could wake up and the mechanic decided that instead of turning on something random, they would want me to live instead.”