Creativity connects me to my truest self and vulnerability. There is nothing more personally liberating than reaching for my face and peeling off the social mask that hides my shadow self, pain and weakness. When I produce from this place of truth, the results transform both creator and beholder
—  Jaeda DeWalt

Don’t fall in love with a woman who reads, a woman who feels too much, a woman who writes. 

Don’t fall in love with an educated, magical, delusional, crazy woman. Don’t fall in love with a woman who thinks, who knows what she knows and also knows how to fly; a woman sure of herself. 

Don’t fall in love with a woman who laughs or cries making love, knows how to turn her spirit into flesh; let alone that one who loves poetry (these are the most dangerous) or spends half an hour contemplating a painting and isn’t able to live without music. 

Don’t fall in love with a woman who is interested in politics and is rebellious and feels a huge horror from injustice. One who does not like to watch television at all. Or a woman who is beautiful no matter the features of her face or her body. 

Don’t fall in love with a woman who is intense, entertaining, lucid and irrelevant. Don’t wish to fall in love with a woman like that. Because when you fall in love with a woman like that, whether she stays with you or not, whether she loves you or not, from a woman like that, you never come back. 

—  Martha Riveria Garrido

soon you will be living in a great city, with friends that support you and understand you, learning and experiencing new things every day. you’re conversational in multiple languages and pursuing a field you love. maybe things are not okay now, but they will be. there are so many wonderful things to come.

Meeting someone at the wrong time is the saddest thing I have ever come to comprehend. There is this unfathomable pain rooted deep in knowing that you have to let go to continue growth separately when in your heart, you just know- you know that since the first day you were both put on this planet, you must have been two seeds planted right next to each other, the crossing of roots inevitable because what else could explain how you see the world almost identically? What else could explain how when it rains on the other, you feel it too? And it is for these exact reasons I know that us meeting was not a coincidence; we will meet again someday when we have bloomed a little stronger in order to maximise eachother’s growth.
—  Farewell for now, my flower.
We praise people about things they have no control on, like their beauty and the shape of their body, and we value it more than intelligence and integrity. We care more about the package than the present.
—  giulswrites
I promise you this, I will do my absolute best to give you everything I possibly can because you deserve the best and nothing less.
—  Tenari Ioapo // I’ll love you right.

“I sometimes forget that you’re not really mine.”

- My Heart Bleeds Poetr #35

Charlene Pablo ( via @inevitable-realities )

If a boy hits my daughter, I will not tell her it is because he likes her, I will instead teach her how to fight back and defend her feelings as much as her body. And if a teacher tries to excuse his behaviour, I will remind them how inflicting pain on someone is a terrible way to show them you like them and a worse way to get attention. Little girls who know how to roar are not sheep to little boys who think they are wolves.
—  Nikita Gill
You deserve all the love and kindness this world has to offer, I may not be able to give it all to you but I’ll never stop trying to.
—  Tenari Ioapo // You desetve the best.

a new beginning, a fresh slate. it can seem intimidating, but it’s full of possibilities, full of memories waiting to be made, discovering that you are so much more than you thought you were. let yourself be guided by your enthusiasm, restlessness and curiosity.

it goes like this: looking at her makes you feel all kinds of things. hot and cold and stupidly brave, but it also fills you with doubts from head to toe. it scares you. looking at her scares you. and you wonder how something so simple can make you feel happy, yet incredibly sad. you think: it must be her face. it must be how her eyes light up when she laughs, or the way she crinkles her nose. you think: it must be her determination. it must be how she knows exactly what she wants. at first you can’t get enough of sneaking glances, of holding her hand, but later even the simplest things are enough to send you running. you don’t know who you are when you’re around her. you’re impulsive and bursting with confidence. you’re a wildfire. and you’re bound to get burnt. but the longer you stare, the more you get lost in her dark eyes and you wonder: am i all that? is she worth the pain? the effort? and oh, she is. and you know. that’s what scares you.
it goes like this: her arms are snaked around your torso and being held by her makes you feel all kinds of things. strong and invincible, but soon enough, you falter. because in the end, she leaves you feeling weak. it hurts you. being held by her hurts you. and you wonder how something so simple can be so confusing, so contradicting. you don’t know who you are around her. you find yourself laughing at her jokes, and wondering how to get away from her only moments later. you are a single leaf caught in the eye of a storm. you think: it’s because she’s too much. but is she? are you sure you were ever enough?
—  are you enough? / n.j.

1. Last year the doctor told me that this kind of sadness is inherited. That they have discovered that sometimes it skips a generation. That the darkness inside me did not grow from nowhere it came from somewhere. I thought to myself, that there is a reason why I have always thought my heart was an attic where I hid pieces of myself. Pieces no one ever wanted.

2. The first boy I ever chose to show this sadness to decided to take it from my attic heart and planted it inside my soul instead. It was easy for him. My soul was a garden I showed him too soon. And he decided that meant he was allowed to take anything he wanted to.

3. Every man who has dared to love me since, has stared at this dark ivy covered soul like it is a haunted house, and I have never tried to explain the thing I have always known. Because men do not have to learn how to open their own selves and lock themselves up again. They are taught to be themselves and the world will accept them better that way. We are taught to break our bodies to be loved. We are taught to confuse sex and love.

4. I knew a girl whose father left her and she took all of her love for him and ate it to comfort herself. People joked how she lived in the kitchen. No one saw her tears when she ate.

5. A friend once told me that she locked herself inside the closet when her parents fought because her father beat her mother and she wished herself into the wood, just so she knew what it was like to be an inanimate object that couldn’t hear or feel anything.

6. My mother told me, that it is the way of the world for girls to grow into women by locking secrets inside themselves. Till now I still imagine every woman I have ever met as a big beautiful house. Full of secret rooms, hiding places, once filled with innocent laughter and joy. Now slightly sad and forgotten because of all those lost places inside them full of secrets.

—  Nikita Gill, The House Inside Her
I have fallen completely in love with you, I can’t stop falling, I won’t stop falling. I love everything about you, from your humor to your incredible smile. You have left your mark on every inch of my body as I have done to yours. I have been to all your favourite places as you have been to mine. I want more, I need more, I crave more of you.
—  Tenari Ioapo // I am yours and you are mine