When you grow up as a girl, the world tells you the things that you are supposed to be: emotional, loving, beautiful, wanted. And then when you are those things, the world tells you they are inferior: illogical, weak, vain, empty. The world teaches you that the way you exist in it is disgusting — you watch boys cringe backward in your dorm room when you talk about your period, blue water pretending to be blood in a maxi pad commercial. It is little things, and it is constant. In a food court in a mall, after you go to the gynecologist for the first time, you and your friend talk about how much it hurts, and over her shoulder you watch two boys your age turn to look at you and wrinkle their noses: the reality of your life is impolite to talk about. The world says that you don’t have a right to the space you occupy, any place with men in it is not yours, you and your body exist only as far as what men want to do with it. At fifteen, you find fifteen-year-old boys you have never met somehow believe you should bend your body to their will. At almost thirty, you find fifteen-year-old boys you have never met still somehow believe you should bend your body to their will. They are children. They are children.
“Men should be offended when someone claims that women should prevent rape by not wearing certain things or not going certain places or not acting in a certain way. That line of thinking presumes that you are incapable of control. That you are so base and uncivilized that it takes extraordinary effort for you to walk down the street without raping someone. That you require certain dress code be maintained, that certain behaviors be employed so that maybe today, just maybe, you won’t rape someone. It presumes that your natural state is rapist.”—Common sense. (via bruisinq)
“Don’t be scared, honey, my mother said. It’s okay to feel the hurt. How else would you know to lift your hand when you touch something hot?
I usually wait to see the smoke.”—Fortesa Latifi (via madgirlf)
“My knees buckled, I went down to the floor. I cried in English, I cried in French, I cried in all the languages, because tears are the same all around the world.”—Miranda July, “Ten True Things,” from No One Belongs Here More Than You (via cerealboxshakespeare)
“Love isn’t her calming you down when you yell. It’s her yelling, just as loud, just as hard, right back at you, right in your face to wake you up and to keep you grounded. It isn’t her or him bringing you roses everyday or cute things that make your relationship appear more presentable. It’s after a long fight, that drains the life and bones right out of you both, and yet her showing up at your door the next morning anyway. It’s not her saying all the right things or knowing exactly how to handle you. So no, it’s not her caressing your hair and telling you everything is going to be alright. It’s her standing there, admitting she’s just as scared as you are.”—Andrew Landon (via subtrist, duhitsmelissa) (via shittyteenblog) (via satans-testicle) (via shitnipples) (via kailynn-is-drunk) (via mindmeetsbody) (via a-higher-place) (via strangersinastrangeland) (via ovarydoses)
“I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”—Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (via rauchwolken)
“Today, we live in an ocean with enormous waves of status obsession, materialism, vanity, ego, and consumerism. Our very lives have become defined not by our productive thoughts, social contributions, and good will, but by a superficial, delusional set of associations, where the very fabric of our society now radiates with cheap romanticisms, connected to vain competition, conspicuous consumption, and neurotic addictions, often related to physical beauty, status, and superficial wealth. In effect, social conformity masquerading as individualism, with the virtues of balance, intelligence, peace, public health, and true creativity left to rot on the sidelines.”—Peter Joseph, Culture In Decline episode #3: “C.V.D.” (via learned—helplessness)