"I am a loser
I am Satan
I am Jesus Christ
There are no winners in this fucked reality”
I hate the fights. I hate arguing and I hate making you mad.
but right now I need to cry. i need to have that fight. I need to scream and I need to cry myself to sleep tonight.
at least at school I can’t hurt myself whenever I feel bad about myself
am I the only one who cannot hold a grudge against anyone no matter what happened between us I have to forgive them/make things right
Your daughter is ugly.
She knows loss intimately,
carries whole cities in her belly.
As a child, relatives wouldn’t hold her.
She was splintered wood and sea water.
They said she reminded them of the war.
On her fifteenth birthday you taught her
how to tie her hair like rope
and smoke it over burning frankincense.
You made her gargle rosewater
and while she coughed, said
macaanto girls like you shouldn’t smell
of lonely or empty.
You are her mother.
Why did you not warn her,
hold her like a rotting boat
and tell her that men will not love her
if she is covered in continents,
if her teeth are small colonies,
if her stomach is an island
if her thighs are borders?
What man wants to lay down
and watch the world burn
in his bedroom?
Your daughter’s face is a small riot,
her hands are a civil war,
a refugee camp behind each ear,
a body littered with ugly things
doesn’t she wear
the world well.”
My house was was being infiltrated by pink so I went outside to find out why.
My jaw dropped.
This is why we are so small in the grand scheme of things.
wow this is magical