i looked for you at the start of every night; needed you when you weren’t in my hands, in my arms, in my mouth - told myself this was poison, this was a mistake, this was addiction

but god. how you look when you’re pink and that smile curls around your teeth and your hair is messy and you’re panting. how you look under porch lights while you tilt your hand out into the rain and tell me about your parents. how you look drunk dancing. your eyes and your fingers and the feeling of falling asleep next to you.

i make myself tea. tell myself i’m okay alone. know i’m gonna miss you.

i. phosphorus; atomic number 15, never found as a free element on earth, essential for life; named for lucifer, light-giver, glows in the presence of oxygen. 

ii. girl as a swarm. i keep bees under my tongue, never find purchase, feel dizzy in high places because what if this body jumps. i picture bad moments like blizzards, count and recount what could go wrong and weigh it against the fragile good i sew. 

iii. you and blue have a lot in common; the cliche of oceans, the cliche of a river that moves so smooth through my blood i don’t realize until too late i’m terribly drunk, the cliche of a lovely bruise and your voice and the songs you hum

iv.  combustible, relating to combustion; able to catch fire and burn easily.

v. i’ve been learning the names of mythical creatures, i’ve been learning the names of plants and animals, i’ve been learning the names of funny internet kittens. i’m keeping my thoughts organized into “would you like this”, “i have to show you” “how do we hide the truth in this.” my anxiety and i are partners in a landslide hunt; we devour any fact that might convince you we’re good enough.

vi. you as electricity. the blush of your cheeks and how your hair looks when it’s messy. in this is simplicity, i catch, don’t have words for the burning. there’s just you and easy, your body in my sheets, a switch flicking. no noise no static no unbecoming. i know i’m shaky. it’s just the shock of the falling.

vii. melting, to melt: to thaw when exposed to heat. to become more tender, to become more loving.

Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.

Sharp Objects, Gillian Flynn

anonymous asked:

Sometimes I look at Zendaya and think "I wish I was pretty like her", but then I stop myself and realize that she wouldn't want me to feel that way about myself because of her or because of anyone else. She'd want me to be confident in the person I am, so when those thoughts come to me I just push them aside because I wanna make the QUEEN proud