"My heart didn’t break into a thousand pieces after he left. Instead, I realized all the things he didn’t do. He didn’t want to hear my stories. He didn’t ask me questions. He didn’t hug me out of the blue to make me feel good. His hugs were always a preamble to something else, and after he was gone, I wondered if he ever knew me at all."
— Diane Les Becquets (via keefrich)
"be a scar. do not be ashamed of living through something."
— nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)
I once cooked an entire meal for a guy out of lean cuisine microwave meals and arranged the food fancifully on real plates before he got to my place. He told me I was an amazing cook, so I’ve concluded either
a) he has extremely low standards
b) he’s a damn liar
c) lean cuisines are underestimated
d) i’m a professional bullshitter
speaking from experience a good indicator that someone is a fuckboy is if they almost exclusively use snapchat as their method of communication
could not be more accurate
All this time I thought I had something to say. So sure there had to be a perfect sentence to contribute to the world of you and me. But today I realized there never was a ‘you and me,’ at least not in conjunction. We were two entities colliding into one another for months on end. I should have accepted the hopelessness the night a felt a loss within myself. I went to sleep next to you feeling more far away than anything in my entire life. A dream presented itself with an intimate you, full of warmth and openness. It was a wave-washing relief until I reopened my eyes to the you in my life. It was achingly lonely waking up to your rhythmic breathing. I could have screamed.
I was being torn down to a state of dreaming my loneliness away. There never was a you, was there? Or at least not one I want to remember."
Anger walks into a bar and I’m
halfway in love.
There’s no joke here. I leave
my beer sweating on the counter
and ask them to dance.
Anger comes home with me,
looks too long at my gentle
knuckles and cries.
They say sorry, I say
‘Let’s just sleep together’.
I bite Anger’s lip bloody
because I can’t control myself.
Because I just really, really need
Anger asks to go slow, asks
me to be gentle.
Anger melts in my hands like
a warmth I never wanted, falling
onto the pillow beside me
Anger falls asleep with their head
on my chest, solid and heavy and
too familiar, while the silence
inside me starts
to growl like the starving thing
I thought I had something to
feed it; something to let it
tear itself to shreds with, but
it turns out I’m the only
pair of sharp teeth in the room.
Turns out Anger only wanted
a place to sleep.