– a love letter. (via amoribus)
This is a letter to the first boy that made me feel small.
He happens to be the first boy to tell me that being small was better.
My voice should be quiet, my emotions subdued,
the gap between my thighs larger than my legs themselves.
It is okay; I forgive you.
Gunpowder is packed tightly into cardboard to become fireworks,
all of its molecules taking up as little space as possible,
and I am now a firecracker of a woman.
Let me be clear:
I am intelligent, articulate, educated, loud.
My tummy is full and round, my thighs clap together,
like rounds of applause for every step I take,
for making it this far.
You will have a daughter one day,
and I hope she surprises you
when she bursts from her mother,
I hope she grows up and challenges every conservative view you’ve ever held.
I hope that you never dare tell her to stay small,
but if you do,
I hope she screams right back at you
that she deserves to take up space.
And I know that you were just the first in a long line of men
to tell me no,
but you’re the first one I said no right back to.
And I am stronger and bigger and bolder, because of it.
I forgive you,
but you can still fuck yourself.
Reblog if you do too. Just to prove that it is more normal than what people actually think.
This has over 350,000 notes…that honestly made me feel so much better.
i was reading through my journal and i found this one page and it broke me
My life in one picture.
ATTENTION ALL GIRLS AND LADIES: if you walk from home, school, office or anywhere and you are alone and you come across a little boy crying holding a piece of paper with an address on it, DO NOT TAKE HIM THERE! take him straight to the police station for this is the new ‘gang’ way of rape. The incident is getting worse. Warn your families. Reblog this so this message can get accross to everyone.
I will always reblog things like this, it won’t ruin your blog or the look of it, and this could potentially save a life.
Found a better use for the wine glasses.
That’s a martini glass.
I’m literally using it for milk and cookies does it look like I care about the finer points of debauchery.
Glad I’m not the only one who does this…
I’m sure this seemed like a better idea on paper
This is hilarious hahahah
For the few of you who enjoy my writing, I have just made and account for just purely my writing! Go give it a follow!
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The cool of the afternoon kept a consistent set of goose bumps on her skin, but her fingers were warm from the small stick of death she held.
Smoke rolled off her lips as she tilted her head to the sky, opening her mouth to let a small puff of air out. The trapped smoke in her mouth burned down her throat and into her lungs, giving her small satisfaction but it didn’t last for long.
The pain never quit went away. No matter how many she smoked, how much she drank, how many lines of whatever drugs she had possessed that night. The cuts were never quite deep enough.
Nicotine and tobacco filled the air around her as she stared out over the hills. The sun was shining and the sky was blue, but not quite as blue as her. Her long tangled hair blew in the wind, making a long wave of brown the soft breeze.
The smoke circled her body as the ashes hit the tall weeds, but fizzled out before much became of it. She laid back taking one long drag, sighing as the smoke took it’s leave. She lied there staring at the sky wondering where she would be tomorrow…if she would be here tomorrow.