Hello my name is Victoria and I write this blog with literary artistic phrases.📖📚You will find poetic texts in this personal blog.You are in my little personal universe called a blog.
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“Nunca estamos contentes com o que Deus nos dá, até a vida nos tirar.”
— Alegraste.
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“Porque você não sabe, mas tenho corrido maratonas e vencido monstros gigantescos para conseguir sentir tudo isso sem arrancar minha cabeça fora.”
— Tati Bernardi.
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“A maioria das pessoas quer viver um conto de fadas. E elas fazem isso. Criam mentiras, possibilidades, promessas. Mas não criam vínculos, sentimentos ou amor. Quando elas voltam a realidade, estão amarguradas, iludidas e sozinhas.”
— E amor, quando foi?
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Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke, 1892-1910
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I didn't get to stop missing her. Ever. It was the thing that my life had handed me, and no matter how heavy it was, I was never going to be able to set it down. But that didn't mean I wasn't going to be okay. Or even happy. I couldn't imagine it yet exactly, but maybe a day would come when the hole inside me wouldn't ache quite so badly and I could think about her, and remember, and it would be all right. That day felt light-years away, but right at this moment I was standing on a tower in the middle of Tuscany and the sunrise was so beautiful that it hurt.
And that was something.
Jenna Evans Welch, Love & Gelato.
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It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.
Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl
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I’ve Got Another Story To Tell
I was in high school, a junior I believe. There was a party out at Chisholm Trail and my friends and I decided to go. I felt very awkward being there at first but after a few drinks everything was fine.
There was maybe fifty people or more. It was fun, we played beer bong, we got caught up in trying to freestyle rap, we smoked weed, told people we barely knew how much we loved them because that’s what drunk people do. Everything was fine.
Until it wasn’t.
I remember being on the tailgate of someone’s truck puking my guts up. I don’t remember how I got to the tail gate but my friend Michael was there so in my head I was fine, just had too much to drink. No worries. After I was done puking I immediately jumped off the tailgate like alright I’m good, let’s drink more and immediately blacked out again.
The next thing I knew, I was in a tent with two men I didn’t know. Everyone was gone and my friends had left me there. They both took advantage of me. I remember being in the tent crying wondering why I had been left there. Why anyone thought it was okay to leave me in the sticks in the condition I was in. I was so sad.
It was miles and miles back to my house and the men had stole all of my stuff so I couldn’t call anyone. As I walked, I just remember screaming and crying and being so angry. I was mad at my friends, I was mad at myself for getting into that situation. Infuriated. Hurt. Confused. But as bad as I was hurting, I kept walking. I finally came to a gas station and a nice couple offered to give me a ride to my house. I’m sure they could tell something was very wrong.
They dropped me off at home, I showered, cleaned myself up and just when I thought I could relax, it suddenly occurred to me that the men who took advantage of me had my phone and could get into it, which they did. Messaging several of my friends, family members etc calling me a whore, a slut, a bitch along with a lot of other things I won’t even mention.
I had to call AT&T and have my phone blacklisted so they couldn’t do anything with it anymore and I eventually got over everything that happened. However, I never spoke up about it and that was my biggest mistake.
I didn’t believe that my voice would make any difference. What was done was done and in my head it was my fault.
In my head it was my fault because I never knew what love was, I never knew what self love was and I never knew what a real friend was.
My blog is mainly my random thoughts. Writing them down to help process them and slow me down so I can organize my life but I’ll keep telling these stories, every single one that I never spoke up about because you’re not alone. And your voice matters. They’ll never be in a particular order, some happened when I was younger, some older but I will tell them and I’ll end every single one of these stories with the same quote:
Love your daughters, teach them to love and respect themselves, set the example or they’ll never know the difference and when real love and genuine friends come around, they won’t know what it is and they’ll reject it.
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