I wake up
at four in the morning
and taste smoke
in the back of my throat.
I swear to god,
you’re still burning
somewhere inside me.
you just have to remember there was nothing wrong.
with you. to begin with.
you just have to come home.
when I go to the movie theatre
The fact that this episode is 10 years old and Beyoncé is even more relevant today is just fabulous
While being angry is a valid emotional response:
- Anger is not a free pass to do whatever you want.
- Anger is not an excuse for damaging, or abusive behavior.
- Anger is not protection from repercussions of that behavior.
You are accountable for what you do, even while angry.
That’s the second time I see you today, and I don’t know which worse, this or not seeing you at all. They both fuck me up from the inside anyways. It’s just sad, where we stand right now, and how I try to avoid meeting your eyes whenever I see you, and it hurts. I think it’s for you that my bones learned to ache, and my stomach learned to curl up, and my thoughts race in a vicious circle. And also for you, that I write now. I almost forget sometimes and think of running to you, to tell you how my day was, and whine about what’s happening in my life right now, it’s so hard restraining myself not to. I miss you, a lot.
Maybe I’m not the one who loved more this time (supposing this is true), I’m definitely the one who’s hurting more.
-egypt have a lot of eyes to love.
-Beautiful and painful photos from Egypt by Denis Dailleux
- you can see the photos good quality from here
‘You can’t be a poet, you’re too tender.
You’d never be able to stand the blows
it takes to tell another’s story.’
‘And besides that,
you don’t have a poet’s touch.
You burn me. You scratch me.
You leave gaping holes in me whenever you look at me.
You’re not soft enough to be a poet.
The noise in your head has to be turned down first.’
I yawned. Looked out the window.
Considered tenderly pushing him out of it.
‘So, what can a mess like me be?’
'Well,' he began steadily, like this was
the introduction to some grand speech
he had practiced in the mirror,
‘Lucky for you I love you too much to let you go,
so even with your flaws,
you can be mine.’
I waited for the punchline. It didn’t come.
He had his hands outstretched towards me,
waiting for me to take them and laugh with him
about my flaws all the way back to his place.
This was it. My fairytale.
Prince charming was a wolf in a secondhand suit,
licking his fangs at me in a rundown diner.
And here I realized, as I excused myself to
‘powder my nose’, and then slipped out the
side door, my worn slippers hitting the concrete
faster than ever before, that perhaps I am not a
damsel in distress, looking to be saved.
Maybe I am the villain. The obstacle.
Maybe every prince has been taught to save me from myself.
Or maybe, just maybe,
I am not a character that has been written before.
Maybe no woman has. We are too multi-faceted, too real.
We have circling wants that cannot be shoved into two hours
and have a happy ending slapped on them.
Maybe the stories are not telling enough.
Maybe it’s up to me.
I Woke Up With This Poem In My Head | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)
happy international women’s day! make sure to include ALL women and not make your definition of womanhood exclusionary. anyone who identifies as female, regardless of race, biological sex, or sexuality is a woman that deserves to be celebrated.
i’m ugly but i want a hot boyfriend do you see my problem