The quiet small words.

Poetry, essays, and other musings of the college aged mind.

[thelovejournals]

…Difficult relationships come into our lives for a reason. No one would choose them, certainly. But if we let them, they can teach us how to be flexible with others and more forgiving.

Joan Bauer (via thelovejournals)

[theeverygirl]

[i-g-norance]

“Date someone who sleeps on your chest and snores in your ear. Date someone who’ll be your Friday night and your entire Saturday. Date someone who is proud of you. Date someone who only makes you cry of laughter. Date someone who isn’t afraid to love everything about you. Find someone who believes love is black and white; you either love someone or you don’t. There are so many mediocre things in life, love shouldn’t be one of them.”

i-g-norance (via i-g-norance)

[speakandyoushallbeheard]

6 Word Memoir

I thought I would be different. 

[speakandyoushallbeheard]

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

It took me a long time to realize that I was not the problem

That it wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough

Or smart enough

Or brave enough

Or pretty enough

Or even loud enough

No –

It took me a really long time to realize it wasn’t me, but the way I had been socialized

Because you look for what you’re lacking in

On a very personal level

You never realize that its sexism because you’ve been convinced that the problem lies with you, not with your gender

  Looking back, I never ran for class president because I thought I wasn’t good enough, not because I was a girl

I never spoke up in class because I thought I was bad at math, not because my teachers expected me to be

When facing a boy in debate, I’d brace myself for loss because in my mind he had to be more prepared and more intelligent than me

  Statistically speaking, I ought to be more educated, more qualified, and more mature than my male counterpart

But statistics don’t matter when for almost 20 years I’ve been socialized to believe that I’m just not good enough

Sexism is sneaky like that

  It acts like an invisible hand

It’s there when he can turn his life around but she will always be that slut from high school

And when he took initiative when receiving the promotion, but she was bossy and cold

Sexism imbeds itself whenever he is confident but she is arrogant

  My whole life I kept asking what am I doing wrong?

I should have been asking what are they seeing wrong?

  People rise to meet expectations

So when we expect our girls to live lives secondary to men, they do

When you tell me boys are better at math, I believe you and accept my mediocrity

When you tell me boys are better leaders, I throw my campaign posters in the trash

When you tell me boys are just more intelligent, more knowledgeable, more worldy, I never speak my mind and forever feel inferior

  Sexism thrives because it turns girls into self-fulfilling prophecies

Because it expects me to be less, I am

  But the insufficiency of the female gender is a grotesque myth

And just as I grew up to see the truth behind fairy tales and princess stories

I grew up and saw the truth behind my supposed lacking

There isn’t any

  I am as capable, intelligent, and impressive as anyone else from any other gender

I am not the problem

And I want other girls to know that neither are they

[speakandyoushallbeheard]

Never Have I Ever (Been Kissed)

I hate the game Never Have I Ever.

I always win.

Which, is losing really,

Because there isn't much interesting about the girl who’s done nothing.

It’s isolating and humiliating and -

It’s just a game.

Never have I ever had sex.

Never have I ever been kissed.

Never have I ever held hands.

Never have I ever been in love.

In fact, the closest thing I ever got to love was an awkward slow dance in 8th grade where I made more eye contact with my friend dancing next to me than the boy I was dancing with.  

And I know it’s just a game, but the game ends,

And people look at me,

They say, “Don’t worry, it will happen for you!”

They say, “But you’re so beautiful, someone will love you!”

But I don’t need encouragement from strangers.

I don’t need false promises of future romances.

I don’t need pity compliments or your exaggerated second syllables-

“But you’re so beauuutiful!”

I know.

I never thought I wasn’t.

What I need, is for Never Have I Ever to not be a “thing”.

I need there not to be societal expectations for sexual experiences categorized by age.

I need self-acceptance to be more important than acceptance by anyone else.

I need to not be driven to sneak shots of cheap alcohol in my dorm before going to a frat so that I’m brave enough to hook up with someone.  

I need to not need to be drunk to do anything.

I need to not then come back disappointed and unkissed because rowdy college boys filled with warm, flat beer and overinflated egos is not who I want to be kissing anyways.   

I am 19 years old, and never have I ever been kissed.

And this chastity, is not some purity contract I’ve made with God.

No, it’s because I don’t open up much for anything.

I hide behind big words and beautiful cadences.

I hide behind busy schedules and lots of ambition.

“I don’t have time for love,” I say.

“I’m not sure how to love,” I mean.

There isn’t much you can keep to yourself these days,

But your hands, your lips, your body, your heart -

You can.

I do not kiss random frat boys,

Or flirt with strangers

Because I am not perforated paper,

Ready to be ripped into pieces and given out on the streets.

I am a whole person.

I want a whole person.

And I don’t mean a virgin, or pure person -

I mean someone who doesn’t love in pieces.

I want butterflies and stolen glances and inside jokes.

I want a boy who loves me as much as I love myself.

I want to love him as much as he loves himself.

When I play Never Have I Ever I get jealous of late night booty calls,

And people who have “things” with other people.

I forget who I am and what I really want.

I forget that getting drunk so that I can clap and put a finger down is the stupidest thing-

Ever.

I forget that a “thing” with someone isn’t love,

It isn't fulfilling.  

I forget that my lips are mine and that I don’t have to share them with anyone just because of how old I am.

I forget that what I am,

Who I am,

What I’ve done,

Is enough.

I am a whole person.

My self worth is not the sum of the boys I have held hands with,

The boys I have kissed,

The boys I have had sex with,

The boys I love.

Nor is it the difference of the ones I haven’t.

I am 19 years old.

I am a good person.

I am a beautiful person.

I am a fulfilled person.