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— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, from letters to Natalie Paley

[text ID: Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence.]

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Maya Beano

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didn’t mean to become overly obsessed with u like that my bad

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Wait, did you hear something?

Lambeosaurus and Ornithomimus, Dinosaur Park Formation.

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I have spent years begging men to be kind to me To be patient and soft I have begged men not to raise their voice Not to call me names I have begged for love For attention I have cried for loyalty And craved reassurance I have begged them to communicate Be open Be honest I have given so many chances to fix what they broke Why do I let myself suffer? I am begging men for common human decency How low must my self-worth be?

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잘 부탁드립니다, Please take care of this

2009

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Ash Cave, Hocking Hills, OH [3942x3954] [OC] - Author: ikoabd on reddit

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me to my therapist: yeah idk I’m pretty good!

me to my tumblr followers: I was born with glass bones and paper skin. every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms. at night, I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep.

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Est-ce que les verbes peuvent s’inventer ? Je veux t’en dire un : je te ciel, et ainsi mes ailes s’étirent, énormes, pour t’aimer sans limites.                    

Frida Kahlo       

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How is it that you are My safest place yet Your hands are not gentle Or kind

Your touch burns my skin And my body melts before you. I think I’ve mistaken this warmth For love Your knuckles landing On the side of my head Hurt less than watching You weep for forgiveness Rocking back and forth Cornered in a room With tiny familiar hands Drowning out your insults Always so perfectly vulnerable for you. For all that filth you carried And dumped on the taintless, My unpolluted innocence, quickly wearing thin You sped down that highway Fueled by rage, foot hitting the break My body hitting the dashboard You made it my fault Yet with your fists full of my hair My body winded, my knees bruised I don't try to free myself You are absolved of any guilt With the same mouth you used to furiously spit on my face You swear that you love me And this time you’ll change. But there’s passcodes, and incognito mode, Cracked screens and split skin. Like a scared little girl I flinch when people hug me With adrenaline pumping Through my veins The marks imprinted on my skin Only hurt when I poke them In the shower. Perhaps I might like the pain

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