If only I could go back and tell my younger self:
It’s okay to be a different kind of woman. There’s nothing wrong with you.
Being a women doesn't restricts you, it makes you limitless.. ｡◕‿◕｡
—𝗦𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗮
"I love the way my chest is so full of you it expands and makes more space for dreams to nestle inside."
e.v.e.
I sit with my grief. I mother it. I hold its small, hot hand. I don’t say, shhh. I don’t say, it is okay. I wait until it is done having feelings. Then we stand and we go wash the dishes.
— Callista Buchen, from “Taking Care,” published in Thrush
“when you left there was a lot of rain. And I don’t mean just outside, I mean everything was just very gloomy and dark. I remember there was a lot of tears and not just regular tears.. there was sitting on the bathroom floor tears, breaking down at our favorite makeout parking place tears, crying in the shower tears, having a panic attack the first time I saw you since we said goodbye tears. just a lot of tears. It was the type of pain that I always felt, it was just always there, my heart just felt so damn empty all the time. everything hurt more without you & I couldn’t stand the intensity of my feelings and the lack of yours… I just couldn’t believe how one-sided things could be. I’ve been trying to distract myself from all this pain but it always comes back to you. I will never not wish that things could have worked out between us. I wish we could have been more, I so badly wish things could have been different with us. but they aren’t and I have to wake up every morning knowing that.”
— Journal entry October 17, 2018
“Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go write it down, you either over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.”
— Sylvia Plath
(via goodreadss)
oh, the girls of moonlight, with their witchcraft books, dark hair and black dresses, sitting outside in a full moon just to watch their queen rise, on her full glory. they have notebooks full of drawings of the creatures of the shadows, and they protect them with spells casted under the night sky.
oh, the girls of sunrise, whispering softly in your ear as you wake up, with they sleep-drunk smiles. their blond hair and pink lips lighted by the delicate sunl of the first hours of the day, the smell of fresh coffee and bread in their kitchen, and all of the calmness of the dawn are in their souls.
oh, the girls of noon, eating in fancy restaurants in lunch time, waiting to go back to work as they look through the window, thinking about the electricity and tiredness of the city. they have a nude lipstick on while reading a science book, and their jazz are louder as the sun shines brighter, peaked on the sky.
oh, the girls of the sunset, with their kind yet angry eyes, watching the pink and orange color the world. they write poems about non-lived romances and wishes for the day they will be real. old indie plays on their cellphones as the sun goes down, and the golden of the world lift up their souls like god lifts up humanity.
She’s a girl of the sunset 🌅😍
jigglypuffsvevo