I am a collection of dismantled almosts.
how to identify “boy” clothes and “girl” clothes
are you a boy? your clothes are boy clothes.
are you a girl? your clothes are girl clothes.
are you outside the binary of boy and girl? so are your clothes.
did someone just tell you your clothes don’t match your gender identity? they are a trashcan and their clothes are trashcan clothes.
I want every piece of me to crash into every piece of you,
I swear to god that’s how they make stars.
She was a person you would not be surprised to find sitting by herself in a corner of the world where she didn’t belong, writing things in a notebook to prevent the rise of panic.
Alice Munro, “Hold Me Fast, Don’t Let Me Pass” (via larmoyante)
And if there’s one thing in this world I’ve ever known for sure, it’s that this girl is gonna crush me like a small bug, leave me so fucking broken there’ll be body bags beneath my eyes from nights I cried so hard the stars died. But I’m like, go ahead. I’m all yours. I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm, cause I’d rather be left for dead than left to wonder what thunder sounds like.
Eat like you love yourself. Move like you love yourself. Speak like you love yourself. Act like you love yourself.
New goal: like other girls’ selfies always as part of the sisterhood.
Women’s Day has been extended until forever because Women are great and why aren’t we always celebrating them
you should draw the giving tree except it just gives away things that nobody asked for like barbed wire and taxidermic animals
Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
I like people who dream or talk to themselves interminably; I like them, for they are double. They are here and elsewhere.