my brother the pig

Ruby: Stripe? Wow. That guinea pig died when my brother was like… eleven. 
Ruby: He never got another one, but he does have a cat now. Well, she’s more like my cat, but my brother fed her and everything because I’m an irresponsible teenager. Now that he isn’t here she’s my cat again.

[Deleted by Ruby]

Ciel and Sebastian being roommates. Ciel, leaving his clothes all around, can’t cook for himself, doesn’t clean his room nor after his mess and Sebastian complaining about how he always cleans up after him, does his bed, and cooks for him, even tho he isn’t payed for it and only has to do that cause leaving Ciel’s mess would also affect Sebastian’s work, since he’s a clean freak. The only thing missing is actually bathing and showering the younger male; but that happens once their relationship develop into something more.

i have always loved topographical maps.
when i was younger i used to trace my fingertips along their lines,
and marvel about how tall a few misshapen circles could seem.

i never realized that i was one myself.

when i was eleven years old,
my brother called me a pig,
and told me i was fat
for eating three oreos.
i screamed back at him that he was an idiot
then crawled into bed and sobbed.

when i was twelve years old
i learned that my too-big thighs were not pretty,
and that my stomach stuck out too much to be okay.
while my brothers were scarfing down
serving after serving
i was unable to open my throat long enough to force something down
i wanted
my lines to disappear
i wanted my map to be smaller.

when i was thirteen,
i forced myself to stop eating for three days.
it hurt so badly that i had to skip school,

when i was fourteen,
i met a girl with anorexia.
a girl
who was fighting for her life
when everything else was telling her to end it,
had real problems.
when she told me to eat,
because she didn’t want me to end up like her,
i did.

when i was fifteen
a stranger on the street told me i was beautiful.
and i wish desperately that i could go back in time
and thank him
because he made me start to think that
maybe having a squishy tummy can be pretty too
maybe my map didn’t have
to be erased.

when i was sixteen,
i met a girl who didn’t realize
that she had a map.
who looked at her body
and only saw barely there flab,
and plenty of scars
she didn’t see what i saw.
i saw
a mountain.
a trail.
concentric circles lining themselves up
to create a piece of art
curves and ridges
making themselves known in the most beautiful way

i am writing this poem for her.
in an attempt to make her see that her map,
is beautiful,
that her scars,
do not mean that she is broken
mountains have plenty of cracks
but we do not call them ugly for it
we say that they
have character.
that they
have a story,
a background.

we say,
they have a map.

—  for katie