at first, you don’t. his name is a note you can’t
eventually your body gets bored
of making tears over the same person
who broke you.
your body says “listen up
it was a long time ago” and for a second
you feel whole but
you catch sight of him in a starbucks and your heart drops
and your hands shake and you want to throw up and
you can’t explain to your friends why this messed you up
because you’ve already talked their ears off so you go home
and have a good old-fashioned sob but
somewhere in that night or the next one or two weeks
down the road
the things that came to the surface start getting old and
you start turning over your relationship in your palms
until you discover the ugly things you’ve been hiding
from yourself and you think
maybe it’s wasn’t always heaven maybe
it was hell
and you write about him or cry about him or
get him out of yourself however you can, you
scrape yourself clean until there’s nothing left
and rebuild from the ground up and
some wicked part of you still wants to talk to him
just to say “look, i’m new now,
but you don’t because you’ve straightened out
the voices in your head
and you write about him and make a stupid poetry blog about
red blood and black ink and you make playlists of songs
you found way after him and you
make yourself okay again eventually because
the truth is, you were whole before you found him
you have just forgotten how to be who you are
without him - don’t worry, my love
all it takes is a little soul-searching
before you rediscover
better off without him.
“When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next.”—How To Pretend It Doesn’t Hurt, by Ashe Vernon (via missinyouiskillingme)
I saw someone fly backwards off a treadmill today and I was laughing so hard I fell off the crosstrainer which made the girl next to me laugh so hard that she slipped off hers and it was 7:30 in the morning and there were just 3 of us sitting on the floor of the gym crying with laughter and in varying degrees of pain
bisexual people aren’t more likely to cheat in relationships but we are more likely to cheat at cards, while lesbians are most likely to cheat at jenga, and genderqueer people often cheat at mario kart
Friendly reminder that yesterday when my mom took me to Walmart she left me alone in the toilet paper section and this guy started hitting on me and I said “Sorry, I’m a lesbian.” and he was like “Oh my god I’m so sorry I thought you were a boy.”
if i as a retail worker have to work with a dozen cameras pointed at me to deter me from stealing $10, cops should have to work with a camera pointed at them to deter them from arbitrarily maiming and killing people