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The Age of Anxiety

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I feel like I no longer know how to be beautfiul

When the reality is I am beautiful simply for being. I an good. I am desirable. Because I am kind. Because I am giving.

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how do i make a profession i love, love me back?

“you have to love yourself before someone else can.”

“if you love something, set it free. if it comes back, it was yours. if it doesn’t, it was never meant to be.”

“we accept the love we think we deserve.”

i mean, i could go on. the quotes on love are endless. but what about the fact that i did love myself, until i entered the legal profession? what about the fact that they teach you to cling on for dear live because if you dare to “let go” or “take a break” you’re not truly “dedicated” to the cause? what about the fact that i thought i did deserve this profession?

there is nothing i want more in life than to do meaningful legal work. but i do not fit. and i do not know how to.

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HFNY

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it’s my dream to be this quick-witted and deadpan.

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Do you ever see people whose faces echo another era? I’ve seen women with the round faces, sparse brows and high foreheads of medieval illuminated manuscripts. Men with dark brows that meet in the middle, olive skin, strong noses and jaws–Byzantine men, ghosts of Constantine, reanimated faces from the Fayum Mummy Portraits. Women with soft figures and the large eyes and prim, petaled mouths of the 19th century. Grizzled men whose brows predicate their gaze, whose wrinkles track into their thick beards and read like topographical maps of hardship and intensity–the wanderer, the poet; Whitman, Tolstoy, Carlyle.  Faces sculpted into the perfect, deified symmetry of the pharaohs–almond eyes, full lips, self-assurance 3,000 years in the making staring at you at a stoplight.   Plump, curved white wrists curled over purse handles in the waiting room and you think Versailles, Madame Pompadour, Marie Antoinette, Catherine the Great. Wide cheek bones, courage and sorrow in the scrunched face of the old man in line behind you and it’s Geronimo, Sitting Bull, Tecumseh. Reddened skin, thick forearms, hair and beard and brows burned by the cold into a reddish corn silk and you think Odin, the forge and the hammer and skin stinging from the salt of the ocean. Virginia Woolf’s quiet brand of gaunt frankness surveys you in passing in the parking lot. Queen Victoria’s heavy-lidded stare and beaked nose are firmly, uncannily fixed on a sixth-grade classmate’s face. Renaissance voluptuousness on the boardwalk by the beach. Boticelli’s caramel androgyny in a youth smoking on a bench outside the mall. Jazz age looseness spurs the tripping gait of the man who watches you paint with his hands in his pockets, and he smiles a Sammy Davis Jr. smile and tells you that you look familiar, that he’s sure he’s seen you somewhere before, but he doesn’t know where or when.

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y'all wanna worship thick thighs but when it comes to cellulite, chub rub, & skin discoloration yr not about that life???? ‪

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I like my coffee like I like my women, unforgiving.

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This was the realest and most heartbreaking thing I’ve watched recently. There is so much I could say on this topic but I’ll just leave you with this. 

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some days

some days i look at who am. at who i’ve become.

some days i wonder what has led me down this path. why when i look in the mirror, i don’t see myself anymore.

some days i can’t understand where i went wrong. i can’t understand love. i can’t understand life. i can’t understand myself.

some days i struggle with the overwhelming emotional sensation that i will always care for those around me more than they care for me.

some days i get caught up in the petty shit. i worry what people think. am i being nice enough? polite enough? and i sufficiently deferring, and keeping my dissenting opinion to myself?

and some days i feel good. i think about how i have accomplished what i set out to do. about how i am on the precise path i set out for myself.

but on most days i wonder, how important is this path? why have i shaped my whole life by it? am i better for the choices i have made?

do i know anything? do i want to know anything?

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As a guy in terrified. If I piss a woman off, all she has to do is falsely accuse me of rape, then my life will be ruined. I'll be labeled a sex offender and go to prison, because the judge always listens to the woman as they see her as a damsel in distress. I'm terrified. The accusations are happening more and more because of feminism. This is why we need Men's Rights.

As a woman I’m terrified. If I piss a man off, he might threaten, assault, rape, beat, batter, or murder me; then my life will be ruined. I’ll be labeled a “slut” who “wanted it” and have my character dragged through the mud, either by law officers, my friends and/or family, or the court of public opinion, because of rape culture. Violence against women is happening more and more because of men like you. We are literally being killed, tortured, and abused by male entitlement.

This is why we need Feminism.

S

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parents: so what are you going to do with your life

me: it's a surprise

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what even is this. i can't - so much kewt!

all she need is her tail

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I don’t need ‘perfect’. Whatever I have with you is more than enough.

Haiku on Clarity | jl | Connotativewords (via connotativewords)

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me

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*covers up real feelings with aggressive sarcasm*

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There was a study done where they got a man to harass a woman in the park and then they did it the other way around. Several stopped the man but they let the woman slap and scream and yank his hair. They asked a professional who concluded that compared to men, women aren’t seen as enough to be a threat. My friend’s principal from three years ago took his kids and ran because he kept showing up to work with bruises put there weekly by his loving wife and everyone told him to take it like a man. Last week I listened as a guy laughed off the idea that a woman could violate him and I thought of an interview on a news show where they showed a boy who flinched inwards every time a girl touched him because of the exact reason the guy laughed off. When compared to men, Women aren’t seen as a threat so men feel free to take whatever they like. Women aren’t seen as a threat so no one takes men seriously when a woman breaks them open.

'When a Girl Slaps a Guy on a Sitcom It's Hilarious: Why Guys Need Feminism,' theappleppielifestyle. (via meggannn)