"Forgive Me, For All The Things I Did But Mostly For The Ones That I Did Not.” (ouch)

"Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not."

-Donna Tartt; The Secret History

me looking at the person i like: i am enamored even with the way your fingers move, with the way the light plays on your skin, with your freckles and your smile and your laughter, with your voice, with how you get around the things you love, with your humor,  me aloud: what’s up asshole

do you actually not like reciving gifts or did you just grow up being told how expensive it was to raise you?

and now, anytime anyone spends any money on you,you fell guilty

No one talks about the transition from being the girl everyone respected too much to come forward to and the girl that everyone desires. To feel like you are never someone's first choice, just a woman they would eventually settle for. To never be the girl they passionately, intensely ache for. To be the one they're afraid to taint. The one they will compromise with. To be the girl that becomes the mother of their child, but never their love.

And suddenly, suddenly you're the girl of their desires. The one with a free spirit and reckless behaviors and self-sabotaging actions. The one that hates herself so much, she throttles her own soul to fit an ideal image of what a man yearns for. To be savage and soft, simultaneously. To gaze at a man like a siren and never admit to being hurt.

No one talks about how you slowly feel both of these girls within you amalgamate. So achingly, so abruptly, you feel yourself spiralling out of control. You jump, face first, infront of a moving train, you wrench your heart inside of your chest. You swallow the thought of not being loved. There is a perpetual knock at the base of your mind of someone burning to come out, to be heard, to be felt, to be accepted.

You either become the trophy wife, or the girl they never wed. No one talks about girls like us.

“Suffering – well, it is the sole determinant of consciousness. I did, though, set out at the beginning that consciousness, in my opinion, is man’s greatest misfortune, but I know that man loves it and wouldn’t trade it for any gratification.”

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

“Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort. Their bodies are constantly bombarded by visceral warning signs, and, in an attempt to control these processes, they often become expert at ignoring their gut feelings and in numbing awareness of what is played out inside. They learn to hide from their selves.”

— Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma

Having a father is like you're the worst man I've ever met my fondest childhood memories include you you treated my mom horribly you are trying to be a good person you're evreything I fear in a man no man will ever protect me like you do why do you hate women but love me?

feminine urge to Know Everything and speak 12 languages

mutuals i’d ominously stare at in a foggy gothic cemetery

Only hot people lay on the floor and contemplate their mortality