and the notes section in my iPhone is reserved for drafting texts and fleeting thoughts
the notes section is for passionate anger and love. for the words you know you cant say
the words that leave your fingertips faster than you can hear them echoing in your ears
letters typed that would have been bit in half by your tongue the second you tasted them in your mouth
and google docs is for essays. for papers and work. for resumes and emails.
google docs is for words meant to filtered for honesty. proofread for the world.
today is for a journal. careful words that are not meant to be edited or proofread. today is meant to be written and left.
left to linger and haunt and remind of what honestly was....
but today I didn't feel like writing in my journal...
so hello Tumblr. home to some of the hardest years of my life. home to my first explorations of my sexuality. home to defining images and quotes. home to ideas of what love, happiness and teenage hood look like.
I dont know how I feel about you. For years you nursed the worst parts of me. Craddeling the lightest depression and showing her how beautiful she could become the darker she got. Fed my body images of anorexic women, promising beauty upon compare if I could just eat a little less. How beautifully broken I could be scarring my frail thin body.
pretty while you cry became the background to my life. It was the words I heard as I tried to throw up. and the words I heard as I played with exacto knives. It the words I heard as I obsessively fantasized about dying and being immortalized as a beautiful broken soul.
its not all your fault though Tumblr.
its Lana del ray, and the virgin suicides. Its 13 reasons why and perks of being a wallflower. Its dead poets society and heathers.
Its the fact that “Society nods its head at any horror the American teenager can think upon itself”
and so I hate you and everything else that tortured my youth for breeding pain.
breeding pain in me. im my best friends. in my cousins. and sister. and every young girl on this website looking to be understood.
and thats where I love you. because you did make me feel understood. You gave me a place to put images and words to feelings I couldn't understand.
you gave me the world’s worst therapy in a time where I never would have admitted I needed anything.
you gave me the wrong images. destructive images. images that molds and nurtures nightmares.
but you gave me images nonetheless. images that proved I wasn't alone in my thoughts. and that I could find a (toxically) comforting group of people who experienced the world as harshly as I. you gave me a page. a place to sort out my thoughts for years and years. almost a decade Ive participated in this dangerous place.
so I hate you. but I know.
I know you have always given me a place to write when I didn't feel like writing in my journal
always remember that love will always come back to u. in a different form, different person, different hobby, different touch. but in any way, love will always come back.
Your heart hurts. It really does. You went through your first real break up. You started to fall in love for the first time and got rug pulled out from under you. but how nice it is to know that you are capable of caring about someone like that. How nice it is to know that you can extend your heart and give it to another person. You weren't always sure. You didn't always know. but you are in fact capable of feeling incredible emotions and making beautiful connections. And how wonderful to know that you are capable or falling for people who are good for you and that you are strong enough to appreciate them without being with them. You're heart is going to hurt for a while longer. But how nice it is to know that you can feel this way and that you undoubtedly will feel this way again
Being able to find someone you click with so naturally is the best feeling ever. You feel like you’ve been best friends you’re whole life, it feels like you’re coming home. You’re so comfortable with them. Maybe that’s what a soulmate is. Not someone who shares every single thing in common with you, but someone who feels like home.
