My mind’s always full
But my wallet is empty
I hate adulthood
I accidentally stumbled back upon my self worth
And now I’m trying to learn how to be healthy again
It hasn’t been easy when hurting myself has become routine
Not physically, but through the company I’ve kept
I guess here’s to hoping the end result is worth it
Because right now this loneliness is my withdrawal period and the light at the end of the tunnel seems a bit too blinding
When you apologized
For your mouth tasting like cigarettes
All I could think was
"Well, ever since I quit, I’ve missed it"
Isn’t it lovely
When people love the things you expect them not to?
I’m starting to realize I only miss you at 2 am
And there’s nothing wrong with that
I guess I just need to become a morning person.
I just wanted to be happy. Happy with you, if we’re getting specific.
I’m sorry I wasn’t enough to make you as happy as you made me. I’m sorry you thought you’d find your happiness in the sweet sentiments of someone else, someone I’m sure has many good qualities that I lack but still didn’t give you what you wanted. I’m sorry you mistook my passion for immaturity and my heartbreak as hyperbole. I’m sorry you don’t understand the difference between forgiving someone for their past actions and continuing to repeat them without expectation of consequence. I’m sorry you couldn’t see the humor in the futility of trying to fix something irreparable.
Mostly, I’m sorry I lied to myself for long. And I’m sorry I accepted all of your empty apologies for so long.
How can you not feel the same way? How do you not notice all of the small intricacies that might as well be a cosmic neon sign to our compatibility? How can you just ignore how perfectly my head rests on your chest and allows me to feel the steady beating of your heart, which has become one of my favourite songs? How can you ignore how fate has an uncanny ability to draw us to one another? How can you ignore the blatant physical attraction that exists between us? How can you ignore the synchronicity of our witty banter? How can you ignore how badly I crave you? How can you not feel the same way?
Oh, right. Because I’m not what you want. I’m not a shiny, vapid doll for you to impress with your humor and formulated romanticism. I’m an intellectual equal; I’m more attractive mentally than physically, and you can’t handle that. I can empathize with you and challenge you instead of providing a shallow laugh-track to your ego, and that scares you.
No, I’m not what you want. But I just so happen to be exactly what you need. Have fun with your dolls.
"I need you to insult me"
"But, I dont want to insult you"
"But you HAVE to. Right now." She said defiantly, eyes fixed onto his.
He knew when she got like this there was no other way. He took a deep breath and went
"I think its incredibly immature when you insult people because you think its funny and no one else likes it either."
He winced as he said the last few words, as he was expecting a slap in the face for such an incisive criticism. Instead, her face fell momentarily, but regained its composure quickly enough so that if you hadn’t known her very long (and he did) you would’ve missed it. “I’m so sor—” he managed to get out before she grabbed him and kissed him. After a few seconds she released him to his appropriately confused state.
"Good. That means there’s something about me that you hate. Which means you know I’m not perfect. Now that we’ve got that squared away, we can move on."
What the fuck is wrong with you?
You say I met you at a very strange time in your life.
But, I can’t help but think, my life is always strange.
So I suppose it’s just lovely to meet you at all.
Reality is a tricky subject. The nature of reality has been a favourite of philosophers, scientists, religious scholars and artists alike. The tangibility of objects and certainty of experiences are often taken into consideration; however these truths become skewed when variables such as time and perspective are thrown in.
I suppose it isn’t too crazy, then, that I feel as I exist within two realities at any given time.
There is my ‘actual’ reality, the one in which I go to work, school, to the grocery store, or maybe to a museum or party. This is the reality in which I have a stable relationship, good friends, and a well paying job.
But then I enter my alternate reality at night, where everything becomes questionable and I can only think with immediacy. It’s an ethereal intangibility that only emotion can create. It isn’t in the nature of the then and now, or the future. It is only the now. And within this alternate reality you’re looking at me with eyes that are so soulful I worry some will spill out and I’m questioning at what point these two realities will converge, and what consequences I’ll have to suffer.
They say a picture’s worth a thousand words but I could fill an album with photos of what I experience and they’re still worthless. I take mental photographs to help develop them into a sense of my reality.
Snapshot. I’m walking to CVS and a man says he wants to lick me up and down as he passes me on the sidewalk. Snapshot. I’m sitting on a train as a man discreetly masturbates in an adjacent seat, staring at me with eyes that pierce through me as if I were wearing saran wrap. Snapshot. I’m asked my bra size while trying to talk about the last presidential debate. “Sorry, they’re just distracting”. Snapshot. I was wearing a sweater. I take mental notes on the things said to me with bitter undertones, reminding me that I’m not that pretty anyway so why take so much offense to it. In the same breath I’m being told that they’re harmless.
Tell me they’re harmless. Tell me words can never hurt me. Make me feel irrational for keeping my fingers wrapped around my canister of pepper spray when I’m alone at night.
Snapshot. I’m being followed home again, only this time ‘leave me alone’ means ‘try harder’ and ‘I’m not interested’ means ‘change my mind’ and my pace is quickening and they are more than happy to keep up while asking if I need someone to spend the night because I look so scared. Snapshot. I’m attempting to ignore the comments that indicate they know where I work and where I live, though I’ve never spoken to them before. Snapshot. My door has four locks and I lock them all and still get very little sleep. So go ahead, tell me these things. Tell me them as my pile of mental photographs burn under the fire of my apparent delusion. Oh, that’s right, I’m just being overly sensitive.
quazarxx-deactivated20120424 said: Just wanted to say I read your Slutwalk post. I am following you now, I really like what you had to say :) I was unable to participate the one we had in a city in New Zealand but I had friends who went. I hope you are well! <3 :)
Aww, I’m so glad you liked what I wrote! That means a lot to me :) and your support is just as important as any walk! I’m great and hope you are too!
Anonymous said: Not only do I like your blog (haha I found it) but I also am OBSESSED with you secretly. Ok here we go.. I got this idea from a Tumblr spam I got once lol.. I think you like me too and you were always too shy to admit it :3 go to crushmatches(dót)com (wtf it wont let me link regular) and make an account there. Then look up the profile 'gottagetme19' (me obviously) I left body pictures.. if you can guess who I am hit me up and we'll hang soon. You need a C C but its free
oh GOD really