Being born a woman is an awful tragedy… Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night…
Sylvia Plath, on rape culture, etc (via slutgrrrlinternational)
This is basically my life summed up into one paragraph.
god, this is something i think about all the time but can never find the words to express. plath is fantastic.
If I love you more than you love me, I’m as good as dead. Yet I can’t make myself take it back. I can’t just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I’m dying inside.
We mistake sex for romance. Guys are taught that pushing a girl up against a wall is romance. Sex is easy; you can do it with anyone, yourself, with batteries. Romance is when someone you like walks into a room and they take your breath away. Romance is when two people are dancing and they fit together perfectly. Romance is when two people are walking next to each other and all of a sudden they find themselves holding hands, and they don’t know how that happened.
Some friendships die because they aren’t moving forward. They die from stagnation or plain neglect. You promised to call but didn’t. You knew it was your friend’s birthday, but were too busy to celebrate. When we’re busy, we only do what comes easy, and even good friendships aren’t always easy. Lack of attention and concern is sure to cause a rift. And when it does, it almost always catches us off guard, when we least expect it or can least handle it: when we’re going through stressful times that make us less attentive and less able to respond - which is what caused the neglect to begin with. That’s why it can seem that the best friendships break precisely when we need them the most.
The girl that sat behind me in my freshman Health class whispered this in my ear once.
It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not.
Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.
~Henry Ward Beecher
@ Pratt Street Beach, Rogers Park, Chicago
It goes one for the cannabis, and two for your dianoetics, three for your reasoning, and four for those that try to get it, five for your love, and six for the stress, and seven for the day that I climbed into this mess.
—Atmosphere (via foreverlyssa)