I’m just gonna write. Just get it all out of my system. For as long as I can remember, You have been my dream man. You know how you drool over a celebrity, and dream of a chance to go out with them? You are my celebrity. I have been in love with you since I can remember. Once upon a time, I would have killed to be your girl. Any bitch you were talking to I would have slayed! And then life went on. And I got tired of being called a bitch. I got tired of trying to be with someone who didn’t care about me. When you were lonely, I was there. And when you were done with me, you tossed me aside. Like you said, I always check on you…After you left me, I’d sulk. And I’d wait. And then I’d check on you…And it’d start all over again. Eventually, I told myself I was worth more than that. And I stopped checking up on you. But I don’t know why I did the last time. I thought of you, and sometimes my thoughts make me do things. Maybe I checked on you again because you tried so hard to figure out who I was. Or maybe because I thought I could try one last time…But it was the same. You didn’t want to be with me, you wanted to be friends or whatever I don’t know. But I knew that I didn’t want to be your friend. But you kept texting me! God, why were you texting me. I wanted to tell you to fuck off. There was no point in being friends. You were never gonna love me, so I didn’t need you. You loved someone else, and that was all I needed to know. But we talked. Until I ended up being a bitch again. And I was done. I was so done. And you text me, something about whether I wanted to fuck you at least. I knew it was you. And you text me again. “I miss you weirdo”. I saved that text. I don’t know why. I save a lot of your texts. And because I didn’t have any interest in holding a grudge, I talked to you. We talked about whatever. The past. Whatever was happening throughout the day. And you started being nice. Like what the fuck? Saying you loved me or whatever. Some bullshit like that. After all that has recently happened, why is it all of the sudden different? Why do you now all of a sudden want to see me and bond with me and all? I don’t know. But I drove to see you. And it was great. I enjoyed every minute of it. I do love you. And part of loving you is being attracted to you. And wanting to have all your kids. And loving the feeling of your arms around me, hand on my thigh, body against mine. I love you. I do. But the longer I am away from you, the more I begin to doubt that you really love me. I’ve been hurt so bad. By others. By you. I don’t need it. I don’t deserve it. I can’t just believe that this is it. That this is my chance. I mean I want to. I want to be your girl. But it doesn’t make sense. Either you really have wised up, or you’re just tired of being lonely. Honestly, I can’t tell.

when the boys pull your hair and push you to the ground
during recess
I promise not to tell you that it’s because they like you.
when the teachers call home to tell me that
you pushed them to the ground in return
I’ll take you out of school early and buy
you your favorite ice cream.
when you get older and the boys
try to touch you when you don’t want to be touched
I’ll look at you like the sun when you come home
with anger in your fists.
they all tell you not to fight fire with fire
but that is only because they are afraid of your flames.
when the boys yell after you like hyenas
you yell back, baby.
I will not teach you to be afraid of your anger
so that you look for it in others.
I will not make you be the better person
because you already are.
you wanna fight ‘em? fight ‘em.
don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love
you have for yourself
and the lengths you go to preserve it.
when the boys try to tell you to soften up
I hope you make them bleed with your edges.
I hope you remember that you are not theirs
that their disappointment in you is not yours.
when the boys come to your door with pretty words and
angry eyes
I hope you show them the anger in yours.
I hope you show them just how strong your mommy
thinks you are.
I hope you show them the animal they can’t always
see in their own reflection.
when the boys come with the intention of hurting you
my advice will always stay the same, my darling:
give ‘em hell.

when the boys come | Caitlyn S. (via zombiebondage)

I will tell this to my daughter.

(via mrfuturepresident)

Journey Through Your Forest

In an attempt to stop crying, I will write to you. This rhyme is dedicated to you, and only you.

There are some who can only be defined by storms. The eyes of storms like portals to their souls. Such a shame, your pain unseen. But I am more than willing to behold. You are, more than tainted flesh. You are, more than the space you keep between the people you meet that yearn to hear the beat of your heart in that cage. That’s what it is, right? A cage. Ribs that stick out like branches in the forest, keeping me from my destination: You. My goal is you. My love-for you. And I will not break your cage of ribs, but maneuver through them. I shall not shame him for his fears, but triumph to him. Your resistance like hot coals on my feet. Our trifles like mosquitoes on my skin. But I must swat them away, my love I must defend. Oh, how your fear beams down on me, gnawing at my sanity. But I shall not-I will not give in to temporary pains. I admit I have come close, bringing my efforts to shame. But I have risen from my selfish thoughts. I want to be your safe haven. The place where you feel safe. The place where warmth is felt in my embrace love secretes into my taste passion lives upon my face and love will never feel the same…Baby, this, is how I’ll love you. I am not perfect, like you are to me. And I may not seem like much at a whopping 5 foot 3. But the Powerpuff Girls were small. Shit-and Chucky was just a doll-but he stayed slayin’ niggas! Pistols ain’t too big neither but with one in ya face I bet you hand ova some figures…But I digress. So what are small packages? The best-if you ask me, that’s where all the magic is. Baby, I love you. Givin’ you the world baby-this is how I’ll love you. I know, I can’t be the best all the time. I know, I can’t fix it all with just this rhyme…But I am willing to travel through your forest. Because it is you I love and adore best. You can have my heart and my best efforts, baby I promise to give you no less.

insanenerdfish:

heruut:

i-aint-even-bovvered:

songofages:

Heartbreaking Simpsons Moments 1/∞: Bart Gets an F

I never understood why it’s an F if he gets more than half out of 100? Unless it’s more than 100. If you get more than half the answers right how is it an F?

You must not be from America. Here, grading is fucked up.

Average American Grading Scale:
A+- 97-100
A - 94-96
A- - 90-93
B- 80-89
C- 70-79
D- 60-69
F- 59 and under

oh wow that is fucked up

(Source: realfart)

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