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❝ Just because I love you doesn’t mean you’re worth it. ❞
—— I Don’t Want to Hurt for You (#621: July 24, 2014)


To the boy who said I should be more ladylike:
I will not cross my legs or twirl my hair
around my finger because it makes
me whole.
I will not bat my eyelashes at you
when you hold the door open for me
and I will not bat my eyelashes at you
when you don’t.
I will not wait for your text messages every night
as if I need your written validation
for my existence.
I will not sit back and laugh at jokes that I
don’t find funny because I can make a room
roar with laughter in seconds flat.

To the boy who said I’m “smart for a girl”:
I will not stop reading book after book
until I’m sure my knowledge can wipe you
off your feet.
I will not feel guilty when I correct your grammar
or point out when you have misspoken.
I will not bow down to you because your father
is a successful businessman and I will not
let you leave until you hear about my mother
who is a profound bio-chemist.
I will not stop using words that confuse you
and I will not stop discussing politics or
the woes of capitalism because my female opinions
make you ‘uncomfortable’.

To the boy who said he hated my body:
I will not spend extra hours at the gym
to keep you from seeing my thighs jiggle
and I will not eat food fit for birds
to ensure you can fit your hand between my thighs.
I will not stop wearing that skin tight dress that
makes my ass look out of this world and I
certainly will not break your gaze when
you evaluate my worth.
I will not stop applying winged eyeliner or bright
red lipstick because I’m not here to look
like your man-made masterpiece.
I will not be a product of your temptation.

To the boy who sees me as an equal:
I will not praise you as if you are a rare species
nor will I boast that you are one of a kind.
I will not drunkenly utter that “I’ve finally got one!”
to my girlfriends over wine
because a boy with a level head shouldn’t be
impossible to find.
I will not pin you up next to my trophies
or diplomas as if you are some sort of accomplishment.
I will not degrade you to what we have been degraded
to all along.

I will defend the girls who are told they are not ladylike
I will protect the girls who are told they are too smart
I will support the girls who are told they should fix their bodies
I will fight for the girls who you tell are not good enough
and I will praise the girls who simply do not care.

Equality is a right, not a rarity.

—— Kimberly Siehl | Equality is a right, not a rarity (via hangingwallflower)


things noticed

last night was what happens when you add low blood pressure to the fact that i haven’t really eaten anything in the past couple of weeks. i just didn’t really care anymore, to be honest. i wanted to shrink and then shrink some more until i am no longer— anyway. mother was pissed and going to force feed me for a while. i don’t know why i was so relieved when she found this out. i guess deep, deep, deep down i’ve just been waiting for someone to notice. no one really did, surprise.

two years later, mum still talks about step father in present tense to other people. i can only imagine how it must feel- to be so scared, so hurt by the loss of your loved ones that you can’t even say it out loud.

i always thought that letting go of people is an experience that has its own limit, like i was always hoping one day i’d get a message saying, “congratulations, you’ve been letting people go for twenty three years straight, from now on you can keep all of them.” but every time, every single damn time, it’s like building sand castles just to watch people destroy it at the end of the day.

your hard work will never betray you, my mum always said when i was younger. your hard work will never betray you. your hard work will never betray you. i can’t get those words out of my head.

it’s true, i should have never tried to make homes out of people. and i should have never let them make their home out of me because i’m just to be abandoned and destroyed when they’re ready to leave.

does any of this make sense though, i don’t know, i’m feeling a little fuzzy from the med and i still haven’t eaten. i hope you’re all doing well.

x.



To women with daughters
hoping to raise subservient
domestic slaves:

Hand your daughter
a hammer
before you give her
a kitchen knife.

Or better yet,
let her choose
her own weapon.

Teach her how to
manage a bank account
before you enlist her
to domestic service.

Do
not
leave
the
dishes
for
her.

Equip her
with a strong voice,
so that she may
speak over
those who may feel
they know
her place better
than she does.

So no one
can make her
decisions for her.

Allow her to choose:
her own colours,
her own way,
her own likings.

She may not like
dresses after all,
what’s the harm?

Encourage her
to be independent,
to pursue her dreams.

You were not born
believing that your
body is a factory,
so why would
you impose the idea
on one of your own?

If you tell your daughter
that she is
in any way
less than a man,
the problem is that
she will eventually
believe you.

——

I don’t usually discuss the story behind a piece of writing, but this one stands out.

My parents had a few families over for dinner recently and I wanted to help in the kitchen to the best of my ability. So I was putting clean dishes away, clearing out the ones from inside the sink, etc.

As I did this, one of the ladies said to me from behind me: “It’s wonderful that you’re helping your mother out, but don’t you dare do this when you’re married, or else your wife will never do any work! ”

It could have been a joke, but it wasn’t. Because she proceeded to cite examples of wives who did not do “what they were supposed to do.” Essentially, she was telling me that it’s perfectly fine to help my mother in the kitchen, but unacceptable to do the same for my wife when I’m married.

The problem with this is that she has two young daughters of her own, and she is raising them with this backwards mentality that men should be excluded from domestic work simply on the basis of biology, which is completely unacceptable.

Boys aren’t princes and girls aren’t slaves. There is nothing more special about a man which puts him above a woman. There is something incredibly wrong with this mentality, the fact that it persists and is being instilled into children from a young age.

— Nav K

(via navk)



2073:

money can’t buy happiness but it can buy a false sense of security and fruity alcoholic beverages to numb the pain and honestly what’s the difference



ramblings.

today was flowers, presents, hugs, and taking lots of pictures. there’s a special kind of emptiness when you have to stand there and watch your loved ones achieved their little victory all at the same time when you haven’t even started your battle yet. kind of makes you wonder if which one’s the special case- you or them. kind of makes you wonder how much faster do you have to walk to catch up with someone who seems to be running.

i did a lot of bad things today. and it just scares me so, so much just to think about how cruel i can be. i wonder what kind of begging i did in my previous life that god decided to grow me into a human being in this life. i wonder if he made a mistake.

i storm out of people’s lives the minute they show the tiniest chance of hurting me. i lock myself and shut the world out every time i start to feel. my eyes have mastered the way of making people feel like they’re ghost, no matter how close they’re standing in front of me. i don’t talk to old scars. i never let the old wounds heal. i’ve always said that i was just protecting myself, but you and i both have struggled through life long enough to know that it’s bullshit. i don’t even know what i’m so afraid of.

the struggle between taking responsibility of what is given to you and doing something you love is real, you know.

you know how most days your life seems to just pass by, just like that. you barely notice the sunset. you’re not even sure you heard the clock ticking. nothing of significance, nothing of importance. i have this theory that the city you live in is only as good as the people you know in it. i want to find the connection between those two, but i don’t know what. i can feel something is forming inside my head, you know, like you see two things and in the space between them you see strings floating and trying to either knot or untangle themselves and when it happens you always go like AH SO THAT’S WHY and in that split second life finally makes sense to you. i can see so many strings, trying. or at least i’m imagining them trying? i don’t know. how do you know that the stuff that happens in your head is real? god, so many questions, and it’s already the later half of the seventh month. time, you silly thing, always speeding up and slowing down for the wrong reasons.



❝ One day I will laugh and no loneliness will fall out. ❞
—— Te’ V. Smith Here We Are, Reflections Of A God Gone Mad


What keeps you from falling asleep?

Most nights I find myself replaying all the things that happened throughout the day. The little things. Things I said, things I touched, gestures I made, expressions I caught from the corner of my eye, the change of tone of someone else’s voice, those one-second hesitations that don’t seem like a big deal. And then I would play a million possible scenarios if these little things changed. Maybe I should hug back. Maybe I should ask what’s wrong. Maybe I should just stay silent. Maybe I should smile back. Maybe I shouldn’t smile back. Maybe I shouldn’t touch his hands. Maybe I should cancel that appointment. Maybe I shouldn’t say this. Maybe I should say that. What could have been? What should have been?

But those are the easy nights. Other nights, I am too scared to close my eyes because I am fully aware of which nightmare awaits me for the night. Sometimes, I think about all the words that pierced right through my skin and I often find myself just lie down on the bed, letting the wounds bleed me dry. Sometimes, I depend on pills and alcohol to keep my memory hazy and let me forget for a moment. They never really helped though, so I kind of stopped. I guess. Sometimes I successfully fall asleep only to find myself jump at the lightest noise because they remind myself of the time I have unwanted hands all over my body trying to have their way while I was unconscious. Sometimes.

I have a lot of questions about life still unanswered. I have a lot of anger towards life I still bottled. And my heart- my heart is yet to be whole again, so I’m still trying to gather all the pieces scattered god knows where. And when you have a million little thoughts nibbling at your sanity, sleep seems like something that can wait, no?



If any one of you right now is having a bad day or bad week bad month bad year or maybe the word “bad” doesn’t even justify what you’re feeling right now, please know that I care very much about you guys and I sincerely want you to stay strong and stay safe and I may not be of much help, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be here.



2322

i. if I had a dollar
for every time I feel this heavy
yet numbing
and throbbing pain
in my chest,
I’d be filthy
rich
by now
(but still empty)

ii. I always look up
at the sun,
sky,
stars,
or simply ceiling
and wonder what
it is
that I look for
that is so hard
to find
(or what I look for in general)

iii. I wonder if
there is something
in life
that’s worth
these aches and
bruises
(that my heart can no longer afford
to touch)

iv. I don’t think people
who romanticise
or beautify
sadness truly
understand
(I’d trade anything)

v. I guess it’s easy to miss
your memories
and wish to go back in time
because nothing
is ever
as how you remember them
(we alter our past to cope with the present)

vi. It’s not even 3 am
it’s 11 pm
on a Friday night
and I guess I now understand
why people drink
to numb
their heartbeat
(and their screaming thoughts)

vii. ‘I will not feel,
be nice to yourself,
it’s all in your head,
you’ll be fine’
I wish it was
that easy.