just-a-bit-obsessed

[just-a-bit-obsessed]

And who's going to stop me from giving my boyfriend a warm hug and making him tea and learning his favorite songs on guitar? God? He could not turn his eyes away from us.

[just-a-bit-obsessed]

we're what the authors were trying to describe

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(X)

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Relationship hack: ask question about their hyperfixations so you can see them get all cute and excited and learn more about their hyperfixations so you can have informed conversations with them about it and so they get to talk about their hyperfixations. And you can go nonverbal and listen to them like a podcast while they get more and more excited. It's cute.

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One day clean.

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In other news, I discovered that you can pull the blades out of your razors with tweezers.

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I can't see enough of my ribs

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shit.

[just-a-bit-obsessed]

-Hanif Abdurraqib

[just-a-bit-obsessed]

Real female rage is knowing she didn't want you to save her and now you're going to help her pick up all the broken pieces of who she was before him, you're going to make sure she gets the help you didn't, even when she was the only one who could have helped you. Real female rage is when you hate him so much for making it a choice, and when you love her so much because she is maybe the only other person who understands what you went through. It's watching it all happen real time, again, like he has a script of how to hurt girls the worst, and knowing that you tried to warn her, that she helped him hurt you. Real female rage is watching her have all the same emotions as you and feeling afraid the way you did and trying to tell her that it's okay and that you love her and that she's not doing anything wrong but knowing you can't say all of that because all the bridges that were burned haven't just reappeared, and that you can't say "it's okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. I'm sorry. I love you." Because you're not friends like that anymore. Real female rage is putting aside your anger at her because she shouldn't hurt like you did, and you're the only one who can really understand it, aren't you?

Real female rage is weighing your hatred against your love knowing your love will win every time, and that she's never gonna know how she hurt you, because you're gonna be there to stop that loneliness, and you're gonna be there to help her understand even when you were confused and had no one.

Real female rage is protecting her from all of it when all you want is for her to understand what happened to you and apologize.

[just-a-bit-obsessed]

Real female rage is watching a friend ditch you for a guy that hurt you and then watching her get hurt by that same guy. Real female rage is not knowing whether or not you're angry because she should have believed you but she didn't deserve for him to hurt her like that. And she should have chosen you without hesitating, but he should have treated her better. Real female rage is watching the cycle repeat and knowing you have to forget about how she hurt you in order to save her from what you went through, and knowing that it's not even really a question. Of course you will. Nobody should feel what you did. Of course you will. She's just a kid.

[just-a-bit-obsessed]

I wish I could paint my walls the color of your eyes, could live by the sea to have a glimpse of them waiting just out the window. I wish the sun made me feel as warm as your smile, and that anything could flood me with joy the way your laugh does.

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Can we make matching hoodies and fall asleep in each other's arms? Can I memorize the exact temperature of us, together, quietly drifting to sleep?

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There's a sort of light inside me when I talk to you, like someone put a star right inside my stomach, and I don't think anything could replicate that. It doesn't matter who else I am around, no one else will make me feel like I drank nebulae from the sky.

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— Steven Espada Dawson, from Elegy for the Four Chambers of My Brothers Heart

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— Margaret Atwood, “We Are Hard,” from Power Politics: Poems (via lunamonchtuna)