Despite what you’ve read, your sadness is not beautiful. No one will see you in the bookstore, curled up with your Bukowski, and want to save you.
for a salvation that will not come from the grey-eyed boy looking for an annotated copy of Shakespeare,
for an end to your sadness in Keats.
He coughed up his lungs at 25, and flowery words cannot conceal a life barely lived.
Your life is fragile, just beginning, teetering on the violent edge of the world.
Your sadness will bury you alive, and you are the only one who can shovel your way out with hardened hands and ragged fingernails, bleeding your despair into the unforgiving earth.
Darling, you see, no heroes are coming for you. Grab your sword, and don your own armor.
False rape accusations are an anomaly.
True rape accusations are a norm.
You’re, quite literally, more likely to be killed by a comet than falsely accused of rape.
white girls can’t wear bindis because in sixth grade one time i was dropped off at school by my aunt who was wearing a bindi at the time and some girl’s mom whispered to her friend how she would never let her daughter play with me because my family had probably been happy about 9/11 and then four years later that daughter showed up to school wearing a bindi as part of her “”“boho”“” look
If I consider you a close friend chances are I’m gonna be at least a little gay with you