Well take me, take me back to your bed
I love you so much that it hurts my head
Say I don’t mind you under my skin
I’ll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in
i am seven
i am loud and creative and happy and confident
i sing my own songs in front of people i don’t know
i model and pose and vogue for anyone that breaks out a camera
i draw strange portraits of people that make them uncomfortable
but i don’t care. i spin in my living room
and talk in my own language; i don’t care
i am my own person and i love every minute of it.
i don’t ask for others’ opinions.
i am ten
i love english class. i write crazy stories in my journal;
a clan of vegetables each with a personality disorder;
a yellow snowman who doesn’t understand why no one likes him;
a cocky genius who runs a successful company but is only 12 years old;
my teachers stamp and sticker and star them.
they tell me i’m brilliant.
other kids don’t get why i like writing so much. or why i like
doing overdramatic impressions of celebrities.
they think i’m weird. only one boy thinks i’m funny.
that boy tells me he loves me
and another tells me i’m ugly.
i only listen to one.
i go home and pluck my eyebrows
i am twelve
i wear mascara and eyeliner and glasses
that i hate. i fake-write and dumb it down;
misspelling and using simple words with dull, generic ideas
i do this out of fear we ever have to “share with the class”.
i don’t want kids thinking i’m weird anymore. one day
our teacher takes pictures of us working and puts them in a slideshow;
when my picture comes up three boys snicker.
one day a popular boy asks me out and i don’t know what to say.
later he corners me at my locker. he laughs and uses
curt hand gestures and says, in harsh, cutting words:
“i was JOKE-ing. it was a JOKE. you are UG-LY.”
he said all of this like i was a foreign exchange student
who didn’t understand english. but i understood.
i go home and beg for contacts.
i never trust a boy again
i am fifteen
a boy shows interest in me. i let him be my boyfriend
regardless that i have no interest in him; physically or mentally.
he tells me i’m beautiful then asks me to take my clothes off
on video chat. no other boy has ever told me i’m beautiful or chased
after me, so i stay.
he constantly tells me i have a big nose, small boobs, and bad taste in music
he constantly tells me i can’t take a joke
i stay because i’m naive and he’s familiar. i think i’ll be miserable
if we break up, but i don’t know i’m already miserable.
how will i ever find a guy like him? i’m ugly and fat and awkward
i avoid mirrors and breakfast
i fake-write so much i forget how to real-write
i get poor grades in school
i am sixteen
i don’t eat anything during the week
and i hate myself. i meet another boy
but this one is kind to me. he tells me my taste in music is amazing
but is astonished at how much i crave his approval.
one day on his couch he holds my face and tells me,
“you need to love yourself
before you can love anybody else”.
he doesn’t ask for sexual favors. he makes sure i eat
and i call myself beautiful whenever i’m with him. he takes me places
and apologizes when i’m wrong. he makes me love myself
even when i don’t want to.
i sign up for advanced english. i start writing again
i am seventeen
my english teacher pulls me aside and i get nervous
i think maybe i shouldn’t have taken advanced english.
she tells me she read my essay to her boyfriend
she tells me it’s the best essay in the whole class.
i go home and write. i read sylvia plath and emily dickinson and flannery o’connor
i eat personal pizzas by myself and feel beautiful
he tells me i’m brilliant even when i’m not. he holds me even when i’m yelling at him telling him to shut up.
“you have to love yourself before you can love anybody else”
i love myself more now
i will always love him more
– this is why i don’t need a facebook relationship status or instagram photo to define what we are, 131writing (via 131writing)
“1. You know that phrase “it is better to have loved and to have lost than to have never loved at all?” Yeah, fuck that phrase. You fuck that phrase into the dirt along with “it’s not you it’s me.” and “you are a huge garden and I am merely a little bug.” You fuck that phrase into obscurity. It is better to have loved than to have lost than to have been stuck with that piece of shit, you hear me? And you guard your heart with a pair keys in your fist like brass knuckles. When young love comes knocking at your door, you pluck out one of its rose-tinted glass eyes. It’s already blind.
2. Before you type that long, mushy text, think about the ones you’ve received, put down the phone, and go shower, go write, go eat. Don’t pick it back up unless it’s to update your status to “Having a wonderful time.”
3. Adding “without you, motherfucker.” is optional.
4. Call your friends, your real friends. And this is how you tell if they’re your real friends or not; they tell you when your acting like a pitiful fuckwad over someone who does not give a shit about you and that you are more than a pitiful fuckwad. Then they hug you while you cry.
5. Don’t ever think that someone who is made idle by your tears is a friend. Crying in someone’s arms is probably the truest form of intimacy, and it’s the only form of intimacy you need when your brain and heart look like burnt scrambled eggs.
6. Don’t have sex with the friend. Don’t do it. You pull another heart into this. Don’t have sex with a stranger right away either, you will cry in your sleep. You will drink.
7. When they call, when they text, when they show up at your door with lilies or a “please.” This is what you do, you listen, you read, you stand in the the doorway. The world is still spinning, nothing they can say can crack pavement or bring the sun down to reignite the warmth in your chest you once felt for them. (And if you still feel that warmth, maybe you should consider what brought you to this point. Remember the pain. Remember the tears. Remember the good times, too. If they ever hit you in the past, empty a can of maze in their face or forward their call to the cops. If they cheated on you, use the aforementioned keys and key their car, key their door, key their motherfucking face, and please get tested.) If they abandoned you, tell them “I deserved better. I deserved more. My love is too extraordinary to be thrown back in my face.” Never take them back. There are over seven billion people in the world. Why, why, why would you go back to the one that doesn’t recognize how singular, how beyond infinite you are?
9. If you never dated them, move on. Get as far away as possible, let them chase you if they want. In the end, it’s their loss.
10. If you don’t learn to love yourself, you will always be chasing the ones who don’t love you.
11. Don’t believe their I love you’s until they prove it. Until they throw away your used tissues. Until they remind you to buckle up and take the phone out of your hand when you drive. Until they cry with you. Until they hear your fears and all the mistakes you made and still think you’re the shit. Tell them that, and if they protest, you have your truth right there.
12. Love, and I am talking about healthy love, is mutual compromise. You might take a bullet for them, but they are giving you the blood transfusion as soon as your ass gets to the hospital. And they are taking care of you. And they are yelling at you for not letting them take that bullet for you.
13. Never give parts of yourself to people who don’t give back, this is how you lose yourself.
14.”Forever” is probably the biggest lie ever told. Don’t trust someone who tells you “forever”, and don’t you dare tell someone “forever.” Forever isn’t your choice, forever isn’t your promise to make. If you want to be truthful, you tell them “for as long as we have.” And you make “for as long as we have” count.
15. Don’t ever say “you weren’t shit to me anyway.” or “I never cared about you.”
16. You were always shit to me, I always cared about you.
17. It took two bottles of NyQuil, one serious note, probably a hundred indirects, my friends threats to jump him\and or run her stank ass over, and so many crying sessions of biblical flood proportions to realize that the only satisfying and certain revenge is to do better. That’s it. I mean, still key their car and make those indirects but don’t forget, do better.”
– Break In Case of Breakup (17 Things on Young Love)
“When I had him on my bed all I could think of was you. I hated the way he laid in the spot you always did as if he was the only one who’d ever been there, when he knew that he was not. The first time I ever had him in my car I put on your favorite band, and he couldn’t understand why it made me so upset when he tried to change the song. Whenever he had his hands on my hips and his lips pressed to my ear, I couldn’t listen to what he was whispering because the chill it sent down my spine made me crave your hands on my thighs. Once he told me that he loved me, I didn’t say it back. Instead, I bit my tongue and reminded him that he was drunk. Just like you always did to me.”
– I always wished that he was you but I hated him when he was (via instanit-y)