It's a lovely day to be alive.🌈

Who gave you the fucking right to make this.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Careers For The Signs

I can’t believe that this post clocked me.

GET USED TO IT My best friends little sister just turned thirteen.  Jordan is the first in her grade to wear a bra. She used to carefully select and lay out her outfit the night before, usually a babydoll dress and a bow in her hair. Now, she refuses to wear anything but XL sweatshirts.   Last week, she was at the waterpark with her friends when an older boy yanked her bikini bottoms off while splashing in the pool. Jordan clocked him right in the face, imprinted a claw of red crescent moons into his cheek. Afterward, she filed her fingernails.   Told the boy’s mother about her son’s rowdy hands. His mother told her she probably doesn’t understand because she doesn’t have any brothers of her own at home but boys will be boys, you know?    I should’ve worn a one-piece, Jordan adds after telling me the story, smacking her forehead. I didn’t have the heart to tell her a one-piece wouldn’t have saved her. I didn’t have the heart to tell her womanhood is a disease with no cure.   When I tell my best friend what some fuckboy did to her little sister, she shrugs her shoulders. She says I don’t know what to tell her, Blythe. I really don’t. The best advice I can give her is to get used to it.

I am trying to both be happy and pay attention to the world around me. I do not know if it is possible to do both at the same time.

Why would I ever want to stop being hungry when anorexia was the most interesting thing about me?

Like any unloved thing, I don’t know if I’m real when I’m not being touched.

me: *lays down with a tank top*

And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.