pen ink

And you think because he kissed another girl that it’s your fault. That it’s your body type, that it’s the way you chew your food or talk more about animals than anything else. You think just because he kissed another girl and held her hands the same way he held yours later that night that it makes you unworthy of affection from anyone in a lifetime. You think because he couldn’t keep it in his pants that you should of been more “easy”, that you should of just given if up. You think that you are incapable of love because you made one mistake. You think because your best friend stopped talking to you because she got a new boyfriend means that you are not worthy of a friendship. Not worthy of stay. You think because she left and he left and they left means there is something wrong with you. You think you are dumb just because a boy couldn’t love you the way you deserve but that is not true. You are worthy of people staying and you are worthy of a love that makes your toes curl and makes your heart race. You are worthy of a man who won’t dream of looking at another women. You are worthy even if men have told you for centuries that you are no more than “just a girl”. You are more than a girl, you are women and you have the power to change the fucking world if you wanted too. Do not let a man ever take that fire that seems to always die out in you but never does whenever someone leaves. You are a women and if that isn’t the most raw,magical thing to be then i don’t know what is.
—  You are more than enough.//Deeply Feeling Series
And there was nothing poetic about wanting to kill myself and writing so many suicide notes in my head explaining how sorry I was for the things I did not become. There was nothing poetic and beautiful about crying myself to sleep every night for the past 5 years hoping someone would care enough to save me. No one saved me. No one was going to save me because there is nothing poetic about thinking you can’t be saved. There is nothing poetic about staring at a blank wall for an entire day or smiling and laughing the next and having people think “oh she’s fine.” There was nothing poetic and beautiful about trying to take my own life. There is nothing poetic and beautiful about my mother having a panic attack every time I have a bad day and lock my door. There is nothing poetic and beautiful about me not taking my pills because I don’t know who I am without this sadness. There is nothing poetic and beautiful about having depression and wishing you were dead. There was nothing poetic and beautiful about my depression or anyone else’s depression nor will there ever be anything beautiful and poetic about it.
—  Fuck anyone that says it’s beautiful//Deeply Feeling Series
I figured out how to stop loving someone you’re not supposed to love anymore. I know it sounds impossible but trust me, we’ve done it before. I told my first love that I’d love him forever, but I don’t anymore. He has a spot in my heart- just like my dog and my best friends and a teacher that changed my life- but I don’t love him anymore because that was a different person who was with him and I’m not her anymore. And one day, we’ll no longer love the people we love now, we just have to wait for ourselves to change again. And we try to speed it up by starting new hobbies, getting haircuts, moving, learning a new language. Anything. Because the sad truth is we know we need to shed part of ourselves to fall out of love. And that sucks but it’s necessary.
I know you’re not sorry. And I know you’re not miserable like I wanted. But I also know that the way you looked at me that time I woke you up in the middle of the night to make you explain time travel was genuine love. And you’ll never feel that again. So maybe in the end, I’m the one that should be sorry.
I know I say I’m over you and I actually believe it most of the time, but I also know that if I saw you again, I’d fall right back into your trap. And if you reached out to me, I wouldn’t be able to ignore it. So yeah, I guess on some level I still miss you, but I also know that I used to lay in bed for hours staring at the ceiling and I don’t do that anymore. So maybe I’m not completely over it, but I’m also not completely broken anymore.