here’s a list of reason i’m happy to be alive: 

• my baby cousin, max, the cutest fucking thing in the goddamn world
• and the rest of my family
• lipstick
• buddy hollies and wayfarers
• trenta starbucks green tea, sweetened with 6 classic
• my amazing job
• tattoos
• friends is cosmetology school
• triple town
• those tiny bottles of liquor that only hold like one shot
• beer
• the internet
• animals who hate everybody but you
• warm spring days
• young adult books
• boys who wear button-ups with skinny ties
• theatre
• corgis
• sephora
• target
• barnes and noble
• old ladies who hum while they’re shopping
• my friends my friends my motherfucking FRIENDS, including ALL OF YOU

"

sometimes i think i’m a person not of flesh and blood and bone, but of too much. i think too much. i worry too much. i care too much. i trust too much. i want too much. i hope too much. i give too much. i love too much.

and, sometimes, when all of that becomes too much to bear, i hate too much.

"  -

"How do they do it, the ones who love but
don’t make love? Innocent as angels,
needing just to softly press lips against
the other’s, fingers laced
around each other’s fingers, smiles
bright as stars, suns, pure as the
children at birth who’ve never seen malice and
have yet to sin. How do they live on our
live on our live on our God live on our
wanton Earth, and not fall
prey unto the world of lust, or
lash out against the weak who give into
it? These are the inamorata,
true lovers, the real, the ones who will not
accept a fake devotion, who love
the lover not the mate. They do not
mistake the congress for the closeness,
they are not lustful fools: they know that sex alone
is never passion, the looks, the warmth,
the brushing of hands, the thumping of hearts and
flutter of moths, this is all we really need,
and they know the inevitable truth, which is the
single need alone in the universe
is to love and be loved."  -

in my high school english class, we were required to flip a poem in our textbook of our choosing, and i chose “sex without love” by sharon olds.

i turned it in late, and when it came time to read the poems outloud, i made one of my best friends do it. my english teacher later said that she loved it, and i would have gotten a 100% had it been turned in on time.

and, honestly, sometimes i wish i could go back to when i wrote this. so innocent, so naive.

and i will always tear up over “they do not mistake the congress for the closeness” and “they know sex alone is never passion” even if it is my own words. i could have never imagined that my virginal 18 year old words could reflect me now.

"

she turned her attention back to the book in her hands, gently turning it about. it was well-worn: some of the pages were dogeared, and some were escaping the binding; it had clearly lost its jacket long ago, as the edges of the cover were worn away; and the spine was cracked and was sure to flip open to a certain page if she were to sit down with it.

but despite this, it was clear the book was as loved as it was used. a dogeared page meant that a passage was important; a worn cover meant it had seen a lot of travel; a broken spine meant that life had momentarily pulled the reader away, but it was important for them to remember where they had left off.

a well-worn book meant a well-loved book.

in a way, she supposed, people were like that, too.

"  -

you now how i can know you love somebody? 

because you can be sitting next to them, in their bed, on their computer, and want nothing more than to kiss their shoulder with each of their sighs.

because that’s how i feel right now. my big sister is fast asleep while my mind is racing with whatever crazy bipolar thoughts it has, but i smile each time she rolls over as i play a song on youtube, or sighs because i am typing too loud, and i place a comforting hand or  a light kiss to her shoulder because, goddamn it, no matter how much i care (or don’t) about myself, i am grateful i am alive to even spare an unconsciousness minute with her.

"

i leave the bread out until it goes stale, and i fall asleep during almost any movie. i drink a lot of tea and have a tendency to leave the mugs laying about instead of washing them. i smoke a lot when i’m stressed, which seems to be more often than not, and the day’s makeup is probably left over from the night before. i drink until i am belligerent because i have a hard time dealing with reality, but i don’t do anything to change it. i get violently angry over the little things, but simmer quietly and deal on my own with the bigger ones until they wreck me from the inside out.

but i hope you will love me not in spite of my flaws, but because of them, as i will do for you.

"  -

"

there should be support groups for this, she thinks. some sort of anonymous organization where she can sit in a circle with like-minded people she’s never met and tell them her story without fear or self-consciousness or shame, because while they don’t say it, she knows everyone around her is sick of hearing it.

“hello, my name is so an so and i am addicted to people.”

and there is no addiction stronger than that, and none more unforgiving. because drugs and alcohol and gambling… there’s always the comfort that they will still be there, will welcome you back without a word.

but people? they have feelings of their own and they have hopes and dreams and their own despair, and they can walk away. they linger even after the night is over, and there is no twelve step program to make that pain any easier.

"  -

tumblr made me crave starburst but i couldn’t decide which one so oops all five it is

oh you know just a normal night at karen’s house

also i like to wear lipstick around the house because even though i am wearing sweatpants and a men’s t-shirt with no bra and my glasses, i still feel like a fucking princess

sometimes i wear heels while doing dishes or some mundane shit for the same reason

KAREN IS TRYING TO ARGUE WITH ME ABOUT SOPA/PIPA/THE MEGAUPLOAD TAKE DOWN/ANONYMOUS 

YEAH, MOM, THEORETICALLY IT WOULD BE GREAT IF IT WERE UP TO THE ARTISTS HOW THEIR WORK WAS DISTRIBUTED, WHETHER FREE ONLINE OR MAKING PEOPLE PAY $13841234 FOR IT, BUT THIS IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. NOT WHEN OTHER PEOPLE NEED TO MAKE MONEY OFF OF THE ARTIST.

SHE IS TRYING TO MAKE OTHER POINTS BUT I AM JUST SEEING RED BECAUSE HER OPENING LINE WAS “DO YOU WANNA FIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING?” AND IT WAS ONLY DOWNHILL FROM THERE.