“If you’re the love of my life, it means that I’ll never use your weaknesses against you, but always use your strengths to better you.
If you’re the love of my life, and you’re afraid of the dark, I’ll take you to the other side of the earth just to show you the sun.
If you’re the love of my life, it means that I’d wake up 2 hours early to see you off on your first day of work, and race home in the evening so I can surprise you with flowers when you walk through the door.
If you’re the love of my life, I’ll let you choose our wedding song because you’ll remind me that the person I’m dancing with is infinitely more important than what I’ll be dancing to.
If you’re the love of my life, I’ll always be your biggest fan.
If you’re the love of my life, I’ll be your eternal lifeguard as a reminder that you save me every single day.
If you’re the love of my life, I swear not a day will go by that you won’t know it.”—Connotativewords | jl | That’s How You’ll Know (via forever-and-alwayss)
BOOBS ARE LITERALLY LUMPS WITH SMALLER LUMPS ON TOP WHAT IS SO SEXUALLY ATTRACTIVE ABOUT A LUMP!!!!
What is sexually attractive about any human body part really? Penises are just tubes with lumps connected to them. Asses are also just lumps. Your face is just a collection of different types of lumps and there’s a hole on it. Everything is just a lump. I can’t get off to this. Now, a rhombus, that’s something I could fuck the shit out of.
I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control. I was on the pill until he found them in my purse.
I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem.
Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo.
When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to.
And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe.
I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy.
I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.
“My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:
1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?
of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”
I met you on a Sunday, right
one look and my heart fell into
my stomach like a trap door.
on our second date,
I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”
he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
“how about you?”
I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
ever again.”—Caitlyn Siehl, “Three Questions” (via charliebronsons)