There is this odd trend
of taken women
saying they are too much,
and how the men they love
are amazing for dealing with them.

Love should not be a responsibility.
You should not have to deal with me.
Just because a woman is wild
and free
does not mean she is difficult.
He is not a martyr for loving me
through the good
and not so good.

Some mornings I will wake up swinging,
you do not get a gold star
for still loving me.

Some mornings I will wake up like a lamb,
you do not get a gold star
for loving me.

I am not a hurricane of a girl,
you always have the chance to leave.

—  Michelle K., Hurricanes.
Watch on

Watch someone beat the world’s hardest Super Mario World level

Super Mario World hacking has a new hero in YouTube user PangaeaPanga, who spent three years assembling and now beating “Item Abuse 3,” a custom creation touted as “the hardest Super Mario World level in existence.” The results are oddly hypnotic:

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If you’re reading this, if there’s air in your lungs on this November day, then there is still hope for you. Your story is still going. And maybe some things are true for all of us. Perhaps we all relate to pain. Perhaps we all relate to fear and loss and questions. And perhaps we all deserve to be honest, all deserve whatever help we need. Our stories are all so many things: Heavy and light. Beautiful and difficult. Hopeful and uncertain. But our stories aren’t finished yet. There is still time, for things to heal and change and grow. There is still time to be surprised. We are still going, you and I. We are stories still going.
—  Jamie Tworkowski

Viene il giorno che ti guardi allo specchio e sei diverso da come ti aspettavi. Sì, perché lo specchio è la forma più crudele di verità. Non appari come sei veramente. Vorresti che la tua immagine corrispondesse a chi sei dentro e gli altri, vedendoti, potessero riconoscere subito se sei uno sincero, generoso, simpatico…invece ci vogliono sempre le parole o i fatti. È necessario dimostrare chi sei. Sarebbe bello doversi limitare a mostrarlo. Sarebbe tutto più semplice.

I am tired of being the difficult girl. 
The sad girl.
I am sick of being sick.
I would like to wind up the music box of my life
replay a different tune
something you can sleep to.
I am still bitter.
I taste it at the back of my throat
and wash it down with straight shots of liquor.
I long for a full night’s sleep.
I am tired of being the difficult girl.

But I still read Bukowski and Plath,
I still drink the moment things don’t go my way
and rip up invitations when I am trapped in my bed,
cry ironic tears that I am lonely.
I still sleep with boys who will break my heart 
so that I will have an excuse to hate them,
then tear apart the sweet ones just to make it even.
I still press my lips into every boy and girl within reach
like I am hoping they can kiss it better 
but this is not something a bandage can fix.

—  the difficult girl
Brave is not convenient.
It is not simple and stylish,
a sweater to be removed at ease.
It is a weight, a rock, a cross
to be carried daily.
The decision to
yet again
be brave is not daintily made.
It may not be easy,
it may not be worth it.
But how many have said,
“oh, I wish I hadn’t been so brave”?
—  Michelle K., Brave.