I can’t help but obsess over so much in life. I get stuck on the things that take the reality away. I will start a series of books in it’s early stages and I will follow that series while book after book come out. I will find a show that I like and just watch it and watch it an watch it until I can’t watch anymore. When I find a food I like, I will eat every day because I just can’t get enough. I will obsess and be stuck on everything that I find an ounce of joy in, until it runs out. And then I am left sad and broken. Maybe I put too much faith in my obsessions, hoping that they’ll just last this time.
But you were my favorite thing to get stuck on, my absolute favorite obsession. The world doesn’t stop with you, it disappears. None of it ever matters with you. I don’t need my books or my shows or my food or anything while near you because what I extract from those books for survival are buried within your bones for me to suck out. You are the obsession to end all obsessions, but please don’t run out. Don’t let it come to an end like all others, I couldn’t take the fallout.
boys r so weak. boys r some pathetic shit. if u punch me in the boob my boob will still b able to sustain life for a new fuckin human. my boob can sustain the human race. if i kick u boys hard enough in the nuts u will never reproduce. ur genetic line is over bub. one well placed stiletto and u are getting shitty half-assed boners and no babies 4 life. who has the power son. who owns u. girls own u. i own u punk. sit down
I wish there was something about me that was addictive. Something that made me hard to forget or hard to move on from. I hate it when people find it easy to dismiss me for someone else in days. It really takes no effort at all to push me out of the picture when I’m just a side factor.
“i will not apologize for being too much for you.
i saw that girl in the dress that fell midway from thigh to knee.
you called her a slut and when i looked down at my own hemline i wondered what you truly thought of me.
do you remember the rosy lipstick that you asked me not to wear because i was “pretty without it?”
so did you think i was ugly with it?
for a month you needed a haircut but i never said anything because if you like it long you like it long,
but then you said “all i ask is don’t wear your hair up, i like it more down”
as if your opinion was supposed to matter so much to me.
so i’m not sorry for wearing tight dresses or for not holding my tongue.
i’m not sorry for keeping the lipstick
or for making more money than you
or for losing my temper when you rolled your eyes at my convictions.
i was a river and you were a dam;
you should have known i would crash through you.
i was the noise you wanted to silence and the pistol you wanted to lock
and no, i will never apologize.”—if you wanted a girl you could control, you picked the wrong one. (via sheets-and-eyelids)
“After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul, and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises, and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child. And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight. After a while you learn…That even sunshine burns if you get too much. So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul, Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.”—Jorge Luis Borges, You Learn (via midnights-gypsy)
“You did not love me,
You just loved the fact that I was here for you.
You loved the attention I gave you,
You loved the fact that I would drop anything for you.
You did not love me, but god,
I loved you.”—memoriesrecollected (via memoriesrecollected)
To the boy who said I should be more ladylike:
I will not cross my legs or twirl my hair
around my finger because it makes
I will not bat my eyelashes at you
when you hold the door open for me
and I will not bat my eyelashes at you
when you don’t.
I will not wait for your text messages every night
as if I need your written validation
for my existence.
I will not sit back and laugh at jokes that I
don’t find funny because I can make a room
roar with laughter in seconds flat.
To the boy who said I’m “smart for a girl”:
I will not stop reading book after book
until I’m sure my knowledge can wipe you
off your feet.
I will not feel guilty when I correct your grammar
or point out when you have misspoken.
I will not bow down to you because your father
is a successful businessman and I will not
let you leave until you hear about my mother
who is a profound bio-chemist.
I will not stop using words that confuse you
and I will not stop discussing politics or
the woes of capitalism because my female opinions
make you ‘uncomfortable’.
To the boy who said he hated my body:
I will not spend extra hours at the gym
to keep you from seeing my thighs jiggle
and I will not eat food fit for birds
to ensure you can fit your hand between my thighs.
I will not stop wearing that skin tight dress that
makes my ass look out of this world and I
certainly will not break your gaze when
you evaluate my worth.
I will not stop applying winged eyeliner or bright
red lipstick because I’m not here to look
like your man-made masterpiece.
I will not be a product of your temptation.
To the boy who sees me as an equal:
I will not praise you as if you are a rare species
nor will I boast that you are one of a kind.
I will not drunkenly utter that “I’ve finally got one!”
to my girlfriends over wine
because a boy with a level head shouldn’t be
impossible to find.
I will not pin you up next to my trophies
or diplomas as if you are some sort of accomplishment.
I will not degrade you to what we have been degraded
to all along.
I will defend the girls who are told they are not ladylike
I will protect the girls who are told they are too smart
I will support the girls who are told they should fix their bodies
I will fight for the girls who you tell are not good enough
and I will praise the girls who simply do not care.
“I look at you, and I’m home. There is no one else in this world that I feel both comfortable and nervous around, but still feel good about myself. Everyone is either one or the other, and I don’t let people see me the way you do.”—I probably love you too much (c.b)
I want to get my future girlfriend to go to a bar with me and then we just do our own thing once inside. Once guys start hitting on her, I walk up and introduce myself, then drop the shittiest pickup line I can think of. Then she swoons over my 1-liner and eventually we both walk out together and leave the other guys confused and frustrated.