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This Is What Makes Us Girls - Blog Posts
I came on here just to say that i felt like Layla from buffalo 66 yesterday. I did mine and my friends make up cause they came over and i fucking wiped the floor with this. Girlhood is literally your friends coming over and putting make-up on while watching criminal minds for no reason.
I need you to understand that when I say "comments are appreciated!" I mean that I will reply to every one of them. I mean that an email with an ao3 notification has a higher priority than a message from my mother. I mean that I will have entire discussions in the comment section if you're up for it. Message me on tumblr and I will have the same discussions on an even more unhinged level. I will dissect entire personalities and ships and fictional political structures and worldbuilding with you. I will become your new best friend. You already ARE my new best friend. At the last battle, I would raise Anduril and say "For my ao3 readers" while a single tears rolls down my cheek, and dive into the fray. I would upload from beyond the grave if someone asked about the next chapter
I want to be loved by an older man, not lusted over.
If I’m not a little scared of him is he even hot?
tell me how the fuck I’m supposed to deal with losing you.
Big, bad, naughty rock star,
Your claws are shinin' bright in the dark
Liftin' up my little red skirt
I know you’ll leave me here in the dirt
So I’ll nod until my neck snaps
Worn down to paper thin skin
And measly shrugs
Traded my glare for a complacent grin
Plastic tea cups for ceramic mugs
Stolen glances for a rehearsed laugh
Soft ice cream for thigh gaps
It seems easier now,
To starve than swallow.
My tongue is raw,
Jagged teeth dug into the muscle
Excuses never slip.
By Friday, life has killed me
Sunk to the bottom.
“Fallen angel,” they cry,
Drunk sailors watch, aghast,
Hopeless, lifeless, she lie.
They dredge her up,
Callin’ her pale hue tragic,
They study her vacant eyes,
A morose sight, bloated to the surface,
On days of somber skies,
They think of her.
A lonely girl, too young to die.
What will life look like 2 years from now?
Can I hear the train whistle between the brush of trees?
The howling of coyotes and roars of mountain lions,
Maybe I’ll be cruising down the golden coast.
I’m hungry for it.
Dry toast and black coffee from a waitress named Diane
It’s not just surviving anymore
I’ll feel at home once the ocean breeze hits my face,
Once it takes my hair between its salty grasp.
I’ll feel whole
Unrecognizable
Unknown.
On my own
No one to please
Just me and a couple sand fleas.
Lick the wound till it’s raw.
Blew out the candles but I still don’t see you.
the longer i don’t see you, the more the bitter bite soothes my tongue. i’ll spike the coffee if it helps the day pass by.
he wants the ballerina in the music box
to spin around for him
and flutter her eyelashes
not the dancer in his bed
prêt à ramper dans ses bras
my sweet summer glow burned for a star that was too bright for me
life is but a dream
almond rum,
stale air,
and a sunlight soaked loveseat
smells like vanilla, tastes like cotton candy
turn me on, watch me bloom
whys it always “why does my daughter hate me” and never “what did i do to make my daughter hate me”
some of my falsies!!
ohh to have natural renaissance ringlets…
some pictures of my plants 🌸( ᵔ ⩊ ᵔ )