“So... How Do You Torture A Woman? [.] You Can Pry Her Body Away From Her Mind, Or You Can Pry Her

when mitski said

I spent all my teen-age years being obsessed with beauty, and I’m very resentful about it and I’m very angry.

I had so much intelligence and energy and drive, and instead of using that to study more, or instead of pursuing something or going out and learning about or changing the world, I directed all that fire inward, and burnt myself up.

Just wanted to tell y'all how grateful I am that radblr exists. Bright spot of my day to be able to interact with women of similar outlooks and theoretical backgrounds in this cesspool of a culture

i’m sitting next to you as you drive forty down that dimly lit street, gravel making the car rumble in the soft way that replaces the radio.

I’m watching my hands now, wringing them and watching them shake, little big movements that are more present than not. I don’t know what it’s like to have still hands, anymore.

You don’t know, i think, you don’t know about them. The pills. the way i look out the window briefly, like it hurts to look. like how it feels when you graze a cavity with ur tongue. it hurts in that good way.

I’m scared to look at you and i’m scared to look out the window and catch the moonlight on my skin for the same reason

I’m scared they’ll make me want to stay. I’m scared to come to terms with leaving you, leaving the moon, the dusty road, the gravel, the stars, the stop signs covered in scratches and graffiti covered overpass.

I can’t miss you too much. it has to be quick. I want it to be easy, and god that’s what i’m trying to do. Make it easy.

So i don’t look left across the console to meet ur deep brown eyes, almost black under the moonlight, and i don’t look right to see the little animals scurrying off into the trees at the sight of ur headlights and the sound of your engine.

I look down at my sweaty small hands instead, and i think about how many i should take. Ten, twelve, five, 8.

It’s a guessing game. It’s five minutes until we reach my home.

and then you speak.

“ won’t you say something?” you grumble. “why do you get like this?”

I’m nervous, but i stay static.

“would you even look at me? Look at me, damn it.”

And at that order, the twinge of anger you fail to hide, I move, looking right towards the window of the very important passenger seat . and i glance up. It’s a beautiful night. i want to say. the moon is so pale, it almost looks blue.

we barely move , only breathy laughs between us as we lay together

(we’re trying not to wake Desire)

(Desire, the monster that makes us serious)

what the heart does best is convince you it’s only purpose is to pump blood like a metal machine housed in your soft body. until something gets to you, then you forget there’s anything else it’s meant to do besides ache, and ache, and ache.

just a few more minutes please?

in your arms, before it gets complicated?

just a couple more touches, here and there?

a few more movie dates?

just one more chance to straddle you in warm lake water and kiss you until i get shy of watching eyes

just a few more minutes walking around a shopping mall, hesitating to hold your hand,

just one more hike, one more perfect view

just another t shirt that smells like you?

or maybe another long drive in your car

or just a few more phone calls

with that deep tired voice

before it gets old

before you get mean

before it fades

just a few more moments

and then i’ll walk away

#(a poem for when it’s only a matter of time)

happy international Women’s day!! (every day for me)

joins tumblr to pass time

becomes a radical feminist

those “ desserts” that are just greek yogurt whey protein powder and liquid aspartame 💔 they have to mix for twenty minutes cause there’s more powder than liquid 💔🥀

the size 2 food influencer who is trying to sell you on “tofu chocolate mousse” is suffering mentally and she wants you to suffer with her. the mousse tastes like tofu because it’s made of tofu. it doesn’t taste like chocolate mousse because it’s not chocolate mousse. not everything you eat has to be high in protein and low in carbs and low in fat. i know this because i also suffered mentally once. in my suffering i made the “tofu chocolate mousse” and i ate the “tofu chocolate mousse” and you have to trust me.

missing you like the clouds miss the rain, light and free but longing to be heavy again

nothing I hate more than men “bravely destroying western propaganda”. I’ve met many afghan women in america on asylum. it’s all true. every fucking word.

Dude showed fuck-all and thinks that somehow proves that "the West" is lying about women in Afghanistan being oppressed. As if these men would ever tell the truth regarding a woman's plight.

This is lazy propaganda and anyone who isn't completely delusional can see right through it.

(Channel name is Arab)