we fall in love with people who don’t love us back because its impossible to miss something we never really had.
- Draw a map on your heart.
- Ink a compass onto your wrists.
- Write a book.
- Read sadness in someone’s eyes and try to make it fade.
- Press your fingers to your pulse and remember that you are alive.
- Stain your mind with beautiful words that you cannot be rid of.
- Kiss a sharp cheekbone and the tip of a finger.
- Tie ribbons on the branches of trees.
- Listen to yourself breathe.
- Remember that you are living and that you can be anything.
i am not a feminist, but that does not mean i think that we live in a society where women and men are equals. with that being said, keep in mind that the following remark i am about to make of course has its exceptions.
as a woman, i feel as though i have been taught to hold my breath while men are encouraged to be loud, vocal, and voice their opinions without restraint. while the boys i sit next to in class shout out and speak as though they are always right, i have found myself shrinking back into my desk.
yes. it is a matter of confidence, but i was never shown that i deserved any. i always felt as though i was encouraged to take up as little space as possible. i felt as though i had to earn every right i have to speak up for myself, so why do men walk around with their chin held high and an air of entitlement?
i don’t necessarily mean entitlement in a negative way… it’s just nothing i have ever been privy to experiencing. i have never felt entitled to my own existence and maybe that’s the problem.
maybe you hate your body. maybe you hate the way your skin curves and that birthmark on your right forearm. maybe you wish you were a little taller or prettier or skinnier. but, regardless of what you think of it, your body is yours. never give it away to anyone or sell yourself short. sometimes our bodies feel like cages, but they’re also our homes. you don’t have to unconditionally love your home, but you do have to respect it.
To be completely in love with you
would be to commit suicide
by snipping every vein inside of my body,
slowly, feeling the tissues tear apart
and color me red.
But today I stared at the moon
in broad daylight,
why can’t I be like that.
My mother tells me about all the ways I peel fruit wrong.
‘It’s breaking’ she says, pointing to the cracks and fissures where juice is seeping from between my fingers. ‘If you hold it between your palms too tightly, you’ll crush it.’
I wish she’d told me sooner because when you left I could not fathom the reason. And then I saw drips on the carpet. The leakage of your heart. And I knew that, like fruit, I had held onto you too hard and you’d fractured under the pressure.
i hardly ever look into a mirror and see myself in the reflection. it’s so rare for my outsides to match my insides that i have a hard time recognizing my own features.