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need new digital camera

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miami

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You are the type of man everyone wants. I don’t worry with you. I get to be a girl. I can wear what I want. I get to get drunk, have fun, turn my brain off for a little because I know you will be keeping me safe. Taking care of me, making sure i’m okay. I never understood why girls wanted a man. They’re mean and they’re rough and they are vulgar. But you have never raised your voice at me. You carry me home on your back. You let me put mascara on your eyelashes to see how long they get. You are such a man

#i’m just a girl #fortnite #he needs me #realmenexist

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I have told you from the beginning that most people in my life have told me I love like a dog. Loyal, even when treated bad, even when not wanted. I feel myself needing to be loved, I feel the need to be hugged and having scary thoughts like “if it happens again it’s okay as long as i’m not alone”. That’s not okay. I know you’re a good person. I know you care but I can’t get that night out of my head. It’s so infuriating because I miss everything and at the same time I don’t. It’s like how could someone hold me at night and kiss me in the morning and scream in my face and get aggressive with me that night. I am not mad, i’m not mad i’m not mad I am so so sad- Text to my bf at the time after he laid hands on me

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I need me. I need to breathe. I need to be well. This will not be death of me. I will live to see better days. I have to!- excerpt from my diary before going to hospital

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I sleep with my boyfriend every night, almost. Maybe it’s peace to share sleep with someone. Maybe i’ve just been lonely, all I know is that it’s gentle.

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Shame In You - Alice In Chains / I Hope - Rebecca Ferguson / I’m Above - Mad Season / Roseanne / Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain / Fear of Dying - Jack Off Jill / Unforgivable - Christina Grimmie / The Waitress - Tori Amos

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applaud yourself for all your efforts in improve your patterns. applaud yourself for facing the consequences of this change , you’ve been resilient .

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— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

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I know when i’m sad I write a lot. I know it’s 3:17 am and i’m writing about my first bestfriend in highschool. I know I miss her more than anything in this world right now at 3:18 am on December 29th I am feeling her absence more than ever. I miss being a girl. I miss walking to the corner store with her to get snacks and coming back home and talking about everything and everything. We were inseparable. It was such a gentle and loving friendship. I will always have love for her. I miss being able to cry to her and seeing how much she cared it was so sincere like she wanted the pain to go away and I remember her hugging me. I remember having to tell her the most heartbreaking thing and the way the sadness washed over her like she knew, she knew the pain, she shared it with me. and as much as it hurt we stood there knowing the hurt and that was enough for me. I know what it’s like having to take care of her after she drank too much and holding her hands while she talked about things in such a mature way. Even when inebriated she was the smartest person in the world. She was always so beautiful to me, beautiful in the way that I wish she never knew what not being picked first felt like. Beautiful because her soul was so lovely and she had such a care for the people that she loved and she is so loyal to the people who loved her. But I couldn’t say that to her so I would just tell her she looked pretty. I think she knew. I knew. It was just me and her for the longest time and i miss it so much tonight I think ill listen to that taylor swift song again.

#Spotify

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Cecil Castellucci, First Day on Earth

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i am a lover. but underneath that i'm a hater. and then underneath that i'm a lover again

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some little reminders i needed today <3

@lilcowgirl7 \ anaïs nin mirages: the unexpurgated diary: 1939-1947 \ jeanette winterson why be happy when you could be normal? (via @weltenwellen) \ @sunsbleeding \ dante émile it’s winter, i’m not in love yet but i’d like to be \ franz kafka the diaries of franz kafka, 1910-1913: “january 2, 1912” (via @dailykafka) \ sheryl st. germain going home: new orleans \ mary oliver dream work: “wild geese” (via @lesbianherstorian​) \ @inkskinned \ bryan washington visitor (via @typewriter-worries) \ nia vardalos tiny beautiful things (via @julykings​) \ ada limón the hurting kind: “it’s the season i often mistake” (via @firstfullmoon​) \ lev st. valentine there’s this game i play every morning (via @darkerthanerebus​) \ raymond carver rain (via @figtreeification​) \ anis mojgani songs from under the river: “here i am” (via @saintsebastiensbf​)

buy me a chai latte

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He never washes his plate and you will still love him more

I wash mine every time

And you will still love me less

-I’m sorry I wasn’t a son

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I think that the first time I felt a bit stronger after the incident in April 2020 was when it got really bad with my mom, we were arguing all the time. The whole time I think I just wanted her to hug me and tell me she knows, that she understands, that she’s sorry. Holding me like her child, understanding every tear because it’s part of hers, I am part of her. I wanted to have a pretty picture of me. I didn’t let her know until halfway to the museum. She was so angry, she’s always angry. I was so tired of the insults she always threw out, I never had comfort, always harsh always cold. It was so cold that day. And I was holding the tears in my eyes because my friend, I wanted her to have a good time with me. I’m not always a burden. I wanted to prove it. I called my sister but she was also tired, and tired of me even more.

“Why are you such a narcissist”

I mean I was a mess trying to keep everything together. My mom called as I was heading home. Screaming through the phone, I couldn’t get anything out my throat closed itself in. My face went hot and I could feel the nails digging into my palm. My friend far from me realizing I wasn’t moving asked if I was okay. She looked at me with such concern and it was the only consolation I needed. At the red line train stop. I could breathe through cries, I wanted to apologize to her but I didn’t. We stood there for some time, people would pass by and I would see their face. Like they’ve been there, like they all have had a day where their friend held them as they sobbed into their shirt at the red line state stop. I wondered if she had to do this a lot, be a comfort to people. It more than sympathy, it was assurance, everything was gonna be fine. It made me feel okay to cry, this life is long enough. I get to cry. So I cried because it’s hard to be a human being, it’s harder than anything else.

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#Spotify

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“Karl Marx is most famous as a critic of capitalism, but at the heart of his critique can be found a desperate plea for the transformation of work. People, he argues, express themselves and create the world through creative and collective activity. This natural tendency is twisted into something unrecognisable in work under capitalism. He didn’t just think work around him was bad because it took place in noisy and dangerous conditions, or for low wages and long hours. The problem of work was a fundamental one: under capitalism, work takes something human and turns it into something monstrous. The forces of capital become ravenous, eating up all that is human, sucking on the very lifeblood of society.”

— Amelia Horgan, Lost in Work: Escaping Capitalism