i envy you girl

I’ve never been in love but I long to be. I want to look at someone while they’re doing normal everyday things and, just think about how happy and in love I am with them. I want to know what it’s like to love someone so much that you don’t want to blink your eyes because, you’re afraid to lose them. I even envy the heartbroken girls who have experienced love. They told me “you don’t want to be in love it’s awful.” I want to be in love. I want to be loved. Even if that means enduring heartbreak.

And I envy her, that girl who replaced me, because I think as you’re staying with her longer than you stayed with me, maybe you’re truly in love with her. Maybe you feel for her what you could never feel for me. And I envy her for being able to light up such feelings in your ever cold heart. I envy her for being able to make you stay.
Don’t be that shy person that you are, all the time. Everybody grows and changes everyday. And so do you. Why don’t you become this different person today? Why don’t you leave your hair down, blow dry it for a change, put on some eyeliner and wear your dress and matching heels and stalk off to the dance floor? Aren’t you tired of watching others have fun? Why don’t you give everyone else a chance to envy you. Be that vivacious, spontaneous girl today? I swear, its worth everything. Let the air tease you and let the music make you fall in love.
—  S.g |20.04.2016|

You know what? I don’t envy anymore those sick girls who restrict and post their ~recovery meals~ made up of yoghourt and low fat snacks. I’m not staring at pro-ana pics anymore,both fascinated and disappointed. I don’t want to be ill anymore. Life is way more interesting than illness,and this makes me feel fucking confident cause I owe nothing to my disorder. I’m not going to do everything I can to be the sickest. I can stand seeing a thinner girl,and thinking that’s not the life I want.
Now I know I deserve better. Feels great.

Sometimes I envy boys. I’ve heard that sentence from every girl I know, at least 10 times.

I’m not going to write about getting abused, personal hygiene, sexism, catcalling - no, I’m going to save that for another time.

However, right now my glass is full and the water is dripping over and I’m so full of envy.

I envy you boys because you don’t need to find motivation to succeed in school, because you already know that you will do great in the future. 

Here, 51% of you will only graduate from High School. 35% of you will stand out and go to University. 

We girls, on average always continue our studies to University, which means that we get a higher education.

Girls graduate from high school with what we call in Sweden for a merit rating, they land on 210. Boys graduate with 190.

63% women graduate from University.

37% men.

Still, I envy you boys, because here in Sweden we girls get a higher merit rating than you, 63% of us has a University degree, basically we work our butts off.

And still, when we both get jobs I will only earn 86% of your salary.

You don’t belong to me. Maybe there was a time when you did, but I know we aren’t meant to be. I envy the girl who will be granted the wish to call you, “mine.” For she’ll be able to taste your lips and feel your skin while I sit here wondering if I’ll ever be fine.
—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #002 // t.c
You don’t belong to me. Maybe there was a time when you did, but I know we aren’t meant to be. I envy the girl who will be granted the wish to call you, “mine.” For she’ll be able to taste your lips and feel your skin while I sit here wondering if I’ll ever be fine.
—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #418 // t.c
A Brief History Of Selfishness

When I dated your
best friend, you used
to come by with those
butterflies on your
skin that would take
flight and chew on
my eyelids. I thought you
were the daffodils outside
her home and
the meadows outside
mine. I would try to
bury your radiance in my
dulled insults about how
you clung desperately to
the mainstream yet prayed
your grip would
weaken like my
resolve. It only made
you stronger and made
me look like a little boy
in a hall of broken
mirrors. I still think of
you on
occasion and wonder
if you still write that
poetry that I shrugged off
my skull but
secretly envied. The
girl I dated has
moved on and you
disappeared from the
coffin of this
shitty town. I’ll probably never
see you again or
have the guts to
talk to you on Facebook
and ask for your
number. It’s probably
for the best because
I’m not ready to
bury my childish
infatuation
in the throat of
that summer.