“The summers before we fell into routine, before we graduated and gave all our money to the corner liquor store. The summer you skipped work and showed me the tide pools in California, how we felt like children rediscovering the world; all starfish and baby crabs and wide eyes and cold, Pacific water. The summer I fell asleep in the curve of your spine. The road trips we listened to the same skipping songs for five hours and didn’t notice. I regret giving up so easily. I regret handing over our bodies to sink like kites with cut strings. Imagine where we’d be. To never grow old. To always know escape.”


    “I miss you But I shouldn’t Because we’re told, Not to miss people that have hurt us We’re told to move on But that must mean there’s something wrong with me Because I miss you so much it hurts I can’t eat or sleep You consume my thoughts We’re not supposed to want those people back But it’s my little secret, That I wish every night that you’d come back to me”

    — Chapters from my life


    OKAY so I saw this a few days ago and was like “whatever” but then I smashed my phone in a car door, had to clean up some dead baby bunnies in my yard, and have just generally NOT had a good week. I’m fucking spooked and I’m reblogging this twice to get the universe to stop.


    I ignored this too and then i got kicked out of my house. Also reblogging twice.

    “How to talk to your daughter about her body, step one: Don’t talk to your daughter about her body, except to teach her how it works. Don’t say anything if she’s lost weight. Don’t say anything if she’s gained weight. If you think your daughter’s body looks amazing, don’t say that. Here are some things you can say instead: “You look so healthy!” is a great one. Or how about, “You’re looking so strong.” “I can see how happy you are – you’re glowing.” Better yet, compliment her on something that has nothing to do with her body. Don’t comment on other women’s bodies either. Nope. Not a single comment, not a nice one or a mean one. Teach her about kindness towards others, but also kindness towards yourself. Don’t you dare talk about how much you hate your body in front of your daughter, or talk about your new diet. In fact, don’t go on a diet in front of your daughter. Buy healthy food. Cook healthy meals. But don’t say, “I’m not eating carbs right now.” Your daughter should never think that carbs are evil, because shame over what you eat only leads to shame about yourself. Encourage your daughter to run because it makes her feel less stressed. Encourage your daughter to climb mountains because there is nowhere better to explore your spirituality than the peak of the universe. Encourage your daughter to surf, or rock climb, or mountain bike because it scares her and that’s a good thing sometimes. Help your daughter love soccer or rowing or hockey because sports make her a better leader and a more confident woman. Explain that no matter how old you get, you’ll never stop needing good teamwork. Never make her play a sport she isn’t absolutely in love with. Prove to your daughter that women don’t need men to move their furniture. Teach your daughter how to cook kale. Teach your daughter how to bake chocolate cake made with six sticks of butter. Pass on your own mom’s recipe for Christmas morning coffee cake. Pass on your love of being outside. Maybe you and your daughter both have thick thighs or wide ribcages. It’s easy to hate these non-size zero body parts. Don’t. Tell your daughter that with her legs she can run a marathon if she wants to, and her ribcage is nothing but a carrying case for strong lungs. She can scream and she can sing and she can lift up the world, if she wants. Remind your daughter that the best thing she can do with her body is to use it to mobilize her beautiful soul.”

    — Sarah Koppelkam

    “as much as i hate admitting it to myself, i still do type your username on the search bar. i still remember your birthday and the way your blue eyes shine when you smile. i still wait for a someday where maybe we’ll cross paths again but deep down, i know someday doesn’t have a date. i still lay on the floor, listen to your song and feel my tears filter through the cracks of my broken heart. no one told me getting over someone would be so damn hard, if only you would’ve come with a warning sign…”

    i long for the day i won’t see you in my dreams anymore.

    “it’s summer again and my hair has reached my waist i’ve stopped pretending that i don’t miss you and i’ve stopped trying to convince myself that you miss me too did you know my father started drinking again? did you know that my parents are fighting again? did you know i couldn’t get up this morning? i’ve tried to ignore your side of the bed but it’s not warm anymore i can’t remember what your voice sounded like and i’ve forgotten what it’s like to hold your hand you know, most nights i look at the sky and try to remind myself that we’re under the same moon but then again, most nights i go back inside and cry myself to sleep i’m trying to remind myself that time will help me forget you that a bottle of vodka and some diet coke will turn me into my father that people leave and they don’t come back and you can’t do anything to fix it because it can’t be fixed i’m trying to act like being your friend doesn’t hurt like it doesn’t tear me to pieces like i don’t wish i could call you baby and fall asleep to the sound of your voice”

    — you set a fire in my heart five months ago and i’ve been trying to put it out

    “How can you have parents and not have them at the same time? My mom never talked to me about relationships, about how people change, about this fucked-up world, about money, she did not even tell me about periods. I had to find it all out on my own. Little did I know, when I let that boy walk in and out of my heart, that he was going to rip my soul into pieces. Little did I know that one of my best friends was going to become much stranger than strangers. Little did I know that somebody may say they love you, but they may not mean it. Little did I know that feelings change, one day you could sleep with the person you love and wake up with someone you don’t. My dad never talked to me about boys, about that being yourself is everything, about not letting people bring you down, about religion, about sex. I had to find it all out on my own. Now I know that some boys only need you when they need sex. I know that people can betray you, but this doesn’t mean that they are bad, or that you are. It just means that people are people and we often make mistakes, it’s okay. We go through it, we learn, we move forward. I know that to be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. I know that you may be soulmates with someone, but not end up together. I know that life has a lot of wonderful moments to offer, but between them you may want to die. I know that my religion is simple, my religion is kindness. I taught myself to grow from the dirt that they left me in. How can you have parents and not have them at the same time?”


    “dear dad, I remember being a little girl and laughing at your silly jokes, your weird faces, and your pranks. I remember how much fun it was having you around. But dad, I can’t remember a single moment where we had a meaningful conversation, a sentimental moment, or a bond at all. I remember the times of your addiction and the anger, the stumbling, the slurred words. I remember the times you were sober when all you did was go to work and come back home just to isolate yourself in your room. I remember countless times asking you to teach me how to play guitar so that we could spend time together, but always hearing, “i’m tired” or “im busy.” I remember always having you around, But i don’t remember ever really having a father. And now, Dad, I know why i hide behind humor and I close myself off from boys. Now i know why i don’t like affection or getting close to people. It’s easier. Thats what you’ve shown me. Dad, I’ve always wanted nothing more than a close relationship with you. I always looked up to you, and I’ve always thought you were the best. But all you showed me was that you didn’t care. And thats the only form of love I’m familiar with. The kind that doesn’t feel like love at all.”

    — dear dad

    “Your father could have been kinder, he could have been gentler, he could have held his tongue and his fists. For some of us he could have stayed, for some of us he should have left, for many of us it might have saved us if he told us that he loved us. But despite him, despite all of the times you felt yourself choking on hate for him, despite the fear that still rattles your bones, you are who you are despite of him. You survived. You learned to love and tend and mend, to be kind, to be gentle, to breathe. Forgiveness really is for you.”

    — Key Ballah, On Fathers

    “To My Long-Ago Ex Hi there. It’s me. I know it’s been a while And you might not even Remember me But I’m The girl you told she was Sweet Funny Fun Intelligent Beautiful… Perfect. But if I was perfect Why was it never enough? You were always trying to Change me Into something I am not. Maybe I am perfect but I just wasn’t Perfect for you. I just wish I had been good enough. I put up with so much crap Because you didn’t know how To treat me right All the time. I cried too much Sometimes every night But I loved you. If I’m honest, I still love you. I don’t think I’ll ever completely stop. There’s a piece of my heart You took with you to Europe When you stopped talking And forgot me And I may never ever get it back Even though you’ve been home For months. Our story was one of extremes. The good was So so good Like a drugless high Of euphoria and promises And the bad was So so bad Like your dislike of my anxiety (I don’t fucking like it either, you know.) And my black lipstick, And like all my midnight tears. I call you an asshole Because it’s easier, Because hearts forget Far too easily The wars they’ve been put through And hearts forgive Far too easily Because they love Even still. But I can’t romanticize the past Though I do. I risk going back And I shouldn’t. I can’t text you For fear of what would happen. I’m a girl with daddy issues And you’re a boy like my father. I’m a thin tree And you’re a hurricane Shaking me loose. It was a beautiful trainwreck and A bad idea wrapped in shiny paper and possibility. But you are a mistake I could make over and over And I try so hard Not to. How can I miss a boy who made me cry? How can I still want you back sometimes? Your name makes me cringe And I don’t know what I would do If I saw you again. I need to put you from my mind But I fear that may be impossible.”

    — Words You’ll Never Read // Pt. 6 -To My Long-Ago Ex

    “You love somebody, right? you love them so much that you would die for them, but maybe they don’t love you back. and every time you look at them it’s like you’re drowning, like you are standing on the edge of a cliff and they are about to push you over, like giving all the best pieces of yourself away only to find they don’t mean a thing. you would sell your love to the first person who looked at you if it meant you wouldn’t miss him anymore. you think you’re better off without a heart but you are wrong. love doesn’t always give you back what it stole, and you might not be like you once were but that doesn’t mean you can’t love again. you are so wrapped up in the ways he doesn’t love you that you can’t look around and see who does.”

    — Excerpt from a book I’ll never write– Lily Rain