June 26th, 2014

I have been called a bitch to destroy any strength I had left.

We give these five letters the power of destruction. An unclipped grenade weighing heavy on our tongues. I have never seen anger leave such a smooth cut.

A bitch knows this war cannot be won with more female bloodshed. A bitch knows the power in this word. The damage it can do, the damage it has already done.

Does it make me a bitch if I am forceful? 
If I am strong, if my bark ravages worse than my bite? 
If I spit before spoken to?
I have never been good at keeping my mouth shut. 
I will not keep my mouth shut.

A bitch knows her voice, knows how to howl with a wolf pack in her throat. A bitch is honest. A bitch doesn’t follow the rules, demands to know who wrote them. Rules are weak. Rules are prey.

I am alpha female.
I am fur on fire. 
I am roaring tornado combusting misogynist mountains to dust. 
Crushed bones and gutted patriarchy carcass. 
We bleed to survive, you bleed to keep up!

And yes, I do kiss my mother with this mouth. Who do you think taught me how to say “No”? To sharpen my teeth? Prepared me for war. I’ve got binders full of bitches.

Bitches who want their 23 cents back. 
Bitches with centuries of trauma being written out of our wombs. 
The carnage women inherit.
Lifelines on our palms as mass graves for this massacre. 
We are birthed into bloodbath.

Bitches will not drown silently.

You cannot name my flesh something I have already branded myself. Women have been waiting.

Bitch is impatient.
Bitch is teeth bared and growling.
Bitch is starving.

Bitch will hunt you, outrun you, suck the marrow out of your bones, feed you to her children, sharpen our voices until you can hear us, thicken our skin when you use the word against us as if it could stop us.

“Bitch” is the least you are losing your grip on.

My voice does not belong to you.
My body does not belong to you.
“Bitch” does not belong to you.

I do not belong to you.

 Isabel Elliott and Maddie Cramer | performed here: youtube.com

April 27th, 2014
The first person who saw your face was delighted by you. Isn’t that something? You managed to bring joy only by breathing.
Your mother will occasionally peek through the cracks of your door when you are sleeping, even now, to make sure that she can see the movements of your chest.
The boy who kissed you in the park last night isn’t in love with you, he won’t even stay, but he meant every second of those minutes.
You’ll walk a city street that your feet have never touched before and you’ll be terrified of getting lost and that feeling is what’ll help you find the way home.
You’ll give your money to a homeless man and he will hold your hand firmly between his and he will say ‘thank you so, so much’ and isn’t that something?
There’s a piece of music that makes your heart feel like it’s bleeding. Listen to it. Listen to it again.
When was the last time you paused to stare at night time?
Did you know that there is at least one person in your life who will jump in front of a hail of bullets for you, without your asking.
Your entire body is made of nerves. Feel things.
Take walks in places you’ve never been.
Take photographs of people not everyone considers beautiful. Find loveliness in them.
Let go of the things that are killing you from the inside out.
One day you’re going to be part of the sky, you’re going to be that beautiful and that necessary but not today. Not today.


Your entire body is made of nerves. Feel things.

(Source: tennez)

Reblogged from MyNameIsAbi
March 31st, 2013

You asked me if I wanted to get drunk and stay the night, and I said yes, and we ending up just lying there in bed, my head resting on your chest, thinking about all the parties we didn’t go to or the roads we didn’t turn down or the words we never said because we thought they sounded too foolish or romantic or silly. And eventually we came to the conclusion that there’s always gonna be the nights when we break down in the car by ourselves listening to The Smiths in a dark, empty parking lot, or the days when even opening our eyes requires more effort than dragging someone out of a burning building.

But then your hand drifted down and it rested over my heart, and we sat there like that for a while, smoking, the city outside just breathing and breathing, over and over again, all the lights out there symbolizing college girls pinching their skin in the mirror or two elderly people falling in love for what feels like the millionth time. The awkward first dates at coffee shops and the librarians who go home and watch porn for two hours every night. You told me all these extraordinary things were happening every day and that sometimes it didn’t matter what road we didn’t take or the things we never said because somewhere out there, there was another couple lying in a shabby little bed with only a few covers, touching each others’ skin and trying to feel alright again when everything was crashing down on them.

Sleepwalking by Writingsforwinter

(Source: writingsforwinter)

March 31st, 2013
I don’t believe in love at first sight but I do believe in seeing someone from across the room and knowing instantly that they’re going to matter to you. They’re going to play a major role in your life.
Ryan O’Connell

(Source: boxesmadeofcardboard)

March 31st, 2013
Making love was never about you and me in a bed. We made love whenever we held hands.
Ian Thomas, I Wrote This For You  

(Source: awdray)

March 31st, 2013
She wore men’s pyjamas under a man’s blue silk bathrobe, and her jet-black hair had been cut into a Louise Brooks shingle bob with bangs. Her dark eyes were smeared with traces of the previous night’s mascara and kohl. A silk sleep mask had been pushed down around her neck.
The Diviners, by Libba Bray 
Reblogged from garance, la mer opale
March 30th, 2013
You will be stupid. You will worry your parents. You will question your own choices, your relationships, your jobs, your friends, where you live, what you studied in college, that you went to college at all… If that happens, you’re doing it right.
Ira Glass

(Source: caitlin--maureen)

March 30th, 2013
If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.
Thomas Merton 

(Source: larmoyante)

March 29th, 2013
I always feel this pressure of being a strong and independent icon of womanhood, and without making it look my whole life is revolving around some guy. But loving someone, and being loved means so much to me. We always make fun of it and stuff. But isn’t everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?
Julie Delpy, Before Sunrise & Before Sunset: Two Screenplays 

(Source: shesthecarr)

Reblogged from purple-ish boots
March 29th, 2013
I don’t need someone to complete me, I need someone to make things a little bit better every now and again.
Jon Richardson

(Source: arnpersand)

Reblogged from infinite
March 29th, 2013
You just do it. You force yourself to get up. You force yourself to put one foot before the other, and God damn it, you refuse to let it get to you. You fight. You cry. You curse. Then you go about the business of living. That’s how I’ve done it. There’s no other way.
Elizabeth Taylor 

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege)

March 29th, 2013
So here’s my advice: Study broadly and without fear. Learn a language if you can, because that will make your life more interesting. Read a little bit every day. But more importantly, surround yourself with people who you like and make cool stuff with them. In the end, what you do isn’t going to be nearly as interesting or important as who you do it with.
John Green

(Source: h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

Reblogged from MAN.datory
March 28th, 2013
As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
Pablo Neruda 

(Source: thatquote)

Reblogged from FOX ON THE RUN
March 28th, 2013
It’s just this strange thing I do where I allow myself to briefly fall in love with another human being that I see on a train, or the sidewalk, or in a warm café.
Chelsea Fagan, Dear Beautiful Guys I Pass On The Street: I Love You 

(Source: murmurrs)

March 28th, 2013
If you can’t laugh together in bed, the chances are you are incompatible, anyway. I’d rather hear a girl laugh well than try to turn me on with long, silent, soulful, secret looks. If you can laugh with a woman, everything else falls into place.
Richard Francis Burton
Reblogged from juxtapose
A website dedicated to the things that inspire a young woman with a good head on her shoulders, an overactive imagination and a constant question on her mind: what kind of woman is she?