where there's a will

poetbitesback:

“Yesterday, I sat crying on a couch that is only mine for an hour once a week. There was no sadness or ache or worries. In fact, my heart could not comprehend how it felt light and like and if I am bold enough, love. I’ve become so good at being a girl made of stone, a statue you look at without daring to touch that I have forgotten all else. Once, I was asked why I always represent myself with a decaying pieta and I think I finally have the answer: it is so much easier to present yourself as always experiencing loss than to think about what it means to be happy in the aftermath of it.”

— post-therapy || O.L.

badpoetsclub:

They hired a 17 year old at work today. She’s not even 3 years younger than I am and every time she speaks I feel confused. Realizing I’ve become more of an adult, I try not to talk to her that often. We’re two different worlds that I don’t know how to connect.

It’s late, there’s no rush in the restaurant, and there’s not much to do except prentending to clean the same spot for 20 minutes. She’s on her phone in the foyer while I’m cleaning a tv screen. I change the channel to the news to see what happened in the area this week, but instead I land on a courtroom report. There’s a man, angry, defying anyone who dare go against his word. He avoids questions professionally and seems confident in his speech. He claimed he did not do it.

There’s a woman. She says she doesn’t want to be here today, that’s she’s terrified, that she’s telling nothing but the truth. She describes sexual assault from a drunken man with no remorse. She speaks now to save others. The women behind her look devastated. I know that I hold the same expression.

Then I see that the 17 year old is next to me. She’s watching the screen intently and her face holds an awful grimace. She sees me looking and hardly blinks when she turns.

“I really want them to believe her.”

She says it and suddenly she and I are the same person. I know her pain and she knows mine. We are scared little girls and bruised women. I feel compassionate, but I’m angry that this is what connected us. I’m angry that she knows this shame that we didn’t fucking ask for. I’m angry that no one believed us when we told them.

She turns to go back to the foyer. I assume we both knew there was nothing to say, but if one person can tell a courtroom about what happened to her, I think I can say something.

“Hey,” I called after her. She turned.

“Me too.”

the accuser // hnl 2018

(via poetbitesback)

poetbitesback:

“how do you mourn without a body? without a heart? without a funeral? I am saying goodbye to who I was, but no one has noticed the passing, the way that the skin I let myself settle into has gone stiff deep in the ground. the temperature drops below freezing in the mornings so the body holds no memory of who I was and I am parting with her, too. if you look close enough you’ll realize there is so much being dumped into this grave- shame, sadness, guilt, hunger, anger punches and love letters, sleepless nights and another nickname- but it is the season for resurrections. what if it all comes crawling out of the earth? how do you ward against haunting yourself?”

— 10/15 || O.L.

firedrill:

University: I have made a graduate.

Student Counsellor: You’ve ruined a perfectly good young adult, is what you’ve done. Look at it. It’s got anxiety.

(via firedrill)

lovechangeseverythang:

I wonder if I will ever reach a point in my life where I feel like I will be able to honestly say, “I finally made it.” I kinda hope that I never do. I never want to stop growing and learning about God, and life, love, relationships, friendships, my passions, etc. I fear complacency. I never want that to happen. I never want to reach a point where I feel like I know enough, because as life goes on I’m discovering the more I learn the more I realize how much I do not know. Growth is a beautiful thing, and it only happens when you stay open to it and stay a student. There will be times in life when you’ll be the teacher, but never stop being a student. There’s still so much to learn and so much God wants to teach you and me!

(via lovechangeseverythang)

isharaytaoshay:

goodguydashura:

the-mighty-birdy:

hong-meiling-official:

greenwithenby:

greenwithenby:

People who prefer hot weather: Snow and ice are a pain, and the cold is just kind of uncomfortable even when you wrap up, you know?

People who prefer cold weather: MY SKIN LITERALLY MELTS OFF EVERY SUMMER I AM A FUCKING HUMAN SOUP AS WE SPEAK

you wouldn’t believe how many people reblogged this to whine about hot weather in the tags.

too cold? put on another layer!

too hot? change into thinner clothes!

still too cold? put on another layer!

still too hot? uh, get naked I guess?

still too cold? put on another layer!

still too hot? Ţ̡̜̮̗̟̯͘ͅA̛͈͎̤͙̳̦̱̜̺̪K̢̻̥̥̥̪̙̜̩̗̼̤̻̻͖͍̜͈͉͠ͅE̟͕̩͔̪͓͔̥̦͇̣͇̳͕͉͜ͅ ̠̝̥̖̭̦̼́͝O̩̦͓̠͉̲̲̱̪̹̻̼̭̯͎͈̕͢F̷̸̢̛̙͇͔̜̙̮̗̲̤͇̯͡F̧̨̱̤̲̫͕͔̼̭͙̠̙͙̹̻ͅ ҉̫̠͓̙̠͔̕͜͠Y͡҉̴̘̭̬̳́O̶̶̧͚̞̣̯̩̫̜̩͉̤͎͖̖͟ͅU̶̵̺̠̪̘̱̮̮̙̻͈̣̦̭͠͝͞R̨҉̦̺͓̩̺͖̘̪̥̺͚̱͚͔̪͓̖̰ ̷̸̺͇̳͇̖̥̻̳͚̗̥͙̪̣́S̡̞̳͖̭̯͉̻̠͔̥̹̫̣̼̹͇͜K͏̧͍̪̗̖̜̫̙̱̫͈̟̝̮͈̻̺̯̟̠̀Į̧̙͙͔̠͖̟̕͝Ǹ͖͎̳͍̪̱̞͇̺̘̩͘͜͠

The cold is easily shut out, the heat is inescapable hell

THE TRUTH COMES OUT.

Avoidance techniques for the cold:

-more coats, fire, hot food and drink, stay inside, fuzzy sweaters, ear muffs, become a burrito

Avoidance techniques for heat:

-die, I guess.

FUCK. HEAT.

(via firedrill)

alonesomes:

“But sometimes, I swear I hear it, the wound closing like a rusted-over garage door, and I can still move my living limbs into the world without too much pain, can still marvel at how the dog runs straight toward the pickup trucks break-necking down the road, because she thinks she loves them, because she’s sure, without a doubt, that the loud roaring things will love her back”

— Ada Limón, from ‘The Leash’ (via wethinkwedream)

(via alonesomes)