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Favourite ships → Rae/Finn

1.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
hard.

2.
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.

3.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.

4.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.

5.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.

6.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.

7.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.

8.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.

9.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.

10.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
hard.

—Rachel Wiley (via loveyourchaos)

Me: *sits in towel for 6 months after showering*

I am the most tired woman in the world. I am tired when I get up. Life requires an effort I cannot make. Please give me that heavy book. I need to put something heavy like that on top of my head. I have to place my feet under the pillows always, so as to be able to stay on earth. Otherwise I feel myself going away, going away at a tremendous speed, on account of my lightness. —Anaïs Nin  (via delicateswans)

visual-poetry:

»capitalism kills love« by claire fontaine (+)

(via buridan)

apoetreflects:

“We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.” 

—Pablo Picasso

 

If you’re struggling, you deserve to make self-care a priority. Whether that means lying in bed all day, eating comfort food, putting off homework, crying, sleeping, rescheduling plans, finding an escape through a good book, watching your favorite tv show, or doing nothing at all — give yourself permission to put your healing first. Quiet the voice telling you to do more and be more, and today, whatever you do, let it be enough. Feel your feelings, breathe, and be gentle with yourself. Acknowledge that you’re doing the best you can to cope and survive. And trust that during this time of struggle, it’s enough. —

Daniell Koepke  (via internal-acceptance-movement)

This is not something I’m good at. Or only for a certain time I guess. then I go back to doing stuff. 

(via quiltingqueer)

All this Beethoven and rain. —Michael Ondaatje (via commovente)

so this guy just walked into the student center coming back from a cubs game and he was telling me how all his friends had left him and he had to walk back here alone and his phone ran out of battery so i asked if he needed a charger and he said he had an iphone 5 so then i just let him use my phone and he wasn’t getting reception so i let him take it outside and he got in touch with some people and then he came back and gave me a hug and told me he was in love with me and then i was like “so you got in touch with someone?” and he goes “yeah” and i was like “so is someone gunna come get you?” and he goes “no i’m going to the bar.” and then i’m like “haha, okay. ” and then he goes “bye” and he kisses me on the head and runs away.

….I really don’t know how I feel about this.