talia grace

18 | enfj | poet | artist | psych major

[btsbambijo]

Body Image

As a plus sized and taller than average individual, I struggled with accepting myself and my body. I constantly felt as though I wasn’t attractive enough because I weighed more than other people around me and that I was bulky and unfeminine because I was taller than most of the girls in my year. It had such an effect on me that I would sometimes cry or breakdown because of how stressed out I was getting. It is a long road to finally getting to a point where you feel comfortable in your own skin. No one is exactly the same as someone else and their path to finding that point isn’t as easy as other’s could be. Some people are struggling to feel like they are worth it because they weigh more, others are dealing with eating disorders, are struggling with transitioning to the gender they were meant to be, they don’t feel beautiful because certain parts of them don’t fit the typical stereotype of beauty within our society/cultures etc today. Some have been lost sometime along their journey. Some manage to make it out to the end. And others are still trying to find their way. And that’s fine. You don’t have to completely comfortable with yourself if you feel you have a reason not to be. Don’t let anyone make you feel as if you have no right to feel that something about you doesn’t feel right. The moment you acknowledge that you don’t feel right in any way, shape or form, the path to figuring it out and coming to terms with it begins. I am proud to say I’m finally reaching the point where I feel comfortable in my skin and I honestly cannot describe how amazing it feels to finally be able to look at myself in the mirror and feel happy with what I am seeing. To actually feel beautiful because I am different and that I feel that I’m able to say; “This is me and I’m proud of it.” To those that have managed to reach the point of accepting yourself and your body, I am so proud of you for making it. You are all so beautiful and amazing in your own ways and to see you blossoming into the people you are today is the biggest blessing I could ever hope for.  To those that have died as a result to some individual’s ignorance and bias, I am going to do my best to make sure that others do not go through what you had endured. I will stand against those that had caused you to feel worthless and show them that though we don’t fit the mould that society sets for us, we are beautiful. Even with our flaws and different shapes, sizes, skin colours, ethnicities etc. we are all completely worth it. And that we deserve to be shown that we are worth as much as anyone else. To those that are still pushing and still carving their path to self-acceptance, I want to let you know that I am here for you. You can come to me if you ever need to and I will do my best to let you vent out anything you need to, rage or anything you feel will help you. I also want you to know that you are beautiful and worth so much. If anyone ever tries to belittle you or make you feel inferior to them in anyway, try your best to brush them off and show them how wrong they are. If you can’t, it’s perfectly ok. It isn’t easy. It’s a hard road to follow with many bumps and dead ends but if you keep at it, you will find yourself at the end a much more stronger and wiser person that you were before. After all, to err is human. I love you all so much, you are beautiful, you are worth it and your flaws are what make you, you. Bambijo out

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reblogging because I too am a plus sized, tall girl

body positivty and good vibes

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I thought I knew what loneliness was before he found me, but I had no clue. You don't know what real loneliness is until you've known the opposite.

Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave 

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You don’t know what you want.

You love her eyes and the way she sketches the world around her,

but you hate her fire and the way she’s never satisfied.

You love the way her lips drag across yours and how her jeans hug her hips,

but you hate how her hair is always a mess and her lipstick stains.

You love her art, her voice, her outer beauty, the her everyone else sees

but you hate the her you got to know. The anger, the wild heart, and most of all, 

How deeply she feels.

She feels things to the core, taking in life like oxygen and letting it sink into her soul.

So just know, dear boy, that if you can’t love every last shard of her,

Don’t love her at all.

-Untitled 1

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eyes like the sky with a heart just as expansive

of all things he is not to be taken for granted

-Two Lines Just Isn’t Enough

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let’s go up in flames, pretty lady

[buctoria-deactivated20180328]

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i’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

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An Excerpt from My Book

Author note: This is from Chapter Two of the book I’m currently writing, called Tales of a Nocturnally Disturbed Individual. Enjoy!

Where am I?

Lucidity is seeping into my veins, bringing my conscious to the surface of a dream world. I slowly clench and unclench my hands, like I usually do when I have nightmares, just to make test my consciousness.

A heaviness in the back of my mind confirms that I am definitely asleep, but as usual I am lucid. My peripheral is slightly blurred, and an echoey silence surrounds me.

I slowly realize that in this dream, I am laying down. I also realize that I am in a bare version of my house.

I’m in my room, but there’s no bed or dresser. No plants on my windowsill or the humming of a ceiling fan. I’ve had this nightmare before.

I slowly sit up, and upon inspection, notice that there’s a few new things in this nightmare. One, the mirrors are here. Two, the paper cranes I fold are hanging from the window.

Not completely bare.

For some reason, this is especially unnerving. I begin to wonder if this isn’t a familiar nightmare after all. The one I have like this is in a completely empty version of my house, void of everything.

Including my family, which is the scary part.

However, this dream is new. I am slowly becoming more conscious, and my limbs are movable now. I stand and slowly walk towards my door.

Something flickers in my peripheral. I look towards it, and see nothing but one of the mirrors. A knot forms in my stomach.

There are two mirrors in my room. One above my vanity on a big wall, the other a floor mirror next to my door. The door is between the two. I am facing the vanity mirror.

I look into it, and am relieved to see only my face. Dream me is slightly blurred, but still the same me. This is comforting.

A nervous giggle at my weakness escapes, and I turn towards the door, where my blood turns to ice.

In the floor mirror, my reflection is not the only one there.

There is a creature there. Skinny, white, with huge ears and equally large voids for eyes. It has no mouth, and simply stares at me.

I glance quickly around the room, and notice that the thing is in the mirror, not in the room. It is unmoving, staring.

As ugly as it is, it seems to not have interest in attacking me. I gather a burst of courage and bolt out of my room, down my stairs, and into the kitchen.

The kitchen is attached to the living room, a big open area. At first, I see nothing, but realization dawns.

My parents love decorating with mirrors. A glance into the living room only reinforces the knot in my stomach. The thing is there, in a mirror next to a door. I cannot see it from where I’m standing, but there is a large mirror diagonally across from it. Again, I glance behind me, but the thing is not there. I turn to look at it in the mirror again and am unnerved to find that it’s gone.

Clench, unclench.

I slowly back towards the kitchen, and notice something in the window.

Apparently mirrors aren’t the only reflection that the thing can be in.

The back side of my house is almost entirely windows; large glass doors included. The thing is in the reflection nearest to me, and it’s beginning to move.

It twitches its head and blinks those terrible, lightless eyes. A scream bubbles in my throat.

The twitching quickens, the thing seems to be vibrating now. I move towards the door, and the thing follows, until I am barely two feet from it.

Suddenly, it stops.

It raises an arm and taps on the glass. The sounds reverberates through the house, echoing in my bones. My heart is pounding.

What do I do?

The thing cocks its head to the side and taps again.

1, 2, 3.

I stare at it, paralyzed. If it had a mouth, it would be smiling at me.

As it raises its bony arm to tap again, I snap.

I send my foot through the glass, shattering it. As the pieces collect around me, I notice a sound.

A tapping.

From behind me.

The funny thing is, there are no mirrors behind me.

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She is a happy hurricane,

And he a sad, sunny day.

Her love wreaks havoc and destruction,

His tears take the pain away.

She is oblivious in her power,

While he watches from afar.

She lives to break and shatter,

And he works much too hard.

She possesses a hidden beauty,

His face takes breath away.

She breaks people with her mind,

But he doesn’t mind the rain.

She starts to see the pieces,

He hides the broken hearts.

She lets her lightning dim,

He fears she’ll fall apart.

She begins to search for sunshine,

He welcomes the cloudy day.

She sees his silver lining,

He has so much to say.

She finds him draped in water,

His eyes are bright with stars.

She bathes her face in sunlight,

He will love all of her scars.

She is a happy hurricane,

And he a sad, sunny day.

She loves him without ending,

So he takes her pain away.

-A Poem for He Who Holds My Heart

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It’s over, you realize.

The boxes are packing themselves, bedsheets folded, and clothes unhung.

The music box your grandmother gave you when you were little sings to you,      a reminder of simple days and short nights.

Childhood is over, dead and gone.

Your mother stands in your doorway, tucking her hair behind her ears and asking if you forgot anything.

No, you say. You’ve read all the lists, the blogs, the how-tos. You think you’re prepared.

But you’re not, oh, you’re not ready.

Not when the suitcases seem to loom over you, the credit card applications pour into your mailbox, and your name is tied to thousands on a loan you don’t yet understand.

Not when the girls you’ve known since the sixth grade start finding other people to love and be best friends with and you find yourself spending more and more time alone as they start their lives without you.

But the real pain comes when you stare at the music box before you wrap it in paper, to keep it safe until it sees light again. Then you realize that your time of little adventures has come to a halt.

But, my dear, that is when it happens.

In that instant, you will realize that the afternoons exploring malls and nights crying over worthless boys were only stepping stones, leading you to the real adventure.

So good luck, little darling, for the coming adventure will bring you love and pain unimaginable.

-The Night I Packed My Little Self

 x x x

“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.

-Frederick Buechner

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this movie is my life

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the only way out is through

[anavaonpaper]

Don’t fall in love with a woman who reads, a woman who feels too much, a woman who writes.  Don’t fall in love with an educated, magical, delusional, crazy woman. Don’t fall in love with a woman who thinks, who knows what she knows and also knows how to fly; a woman sure of herself.  Don’t fall in love with a woman who laughs or cries making love, knows how to turn her spirit into flesh; let alone that one who loves poetry (these are the most dangerous) or spends half an hour contemplating a painting and isn’t able to live without music.  Don’t fall in love with a woman who is interested in politics and is rebellious and feels a huge horror from injustice. One who does not like to watch television at all. Or a woman who is beautiful no matter the features of her face or her body.  Don’t fall in love with a woman who is intense, entertaining, lucid and irrelevant. Don’t wish to fall in love with a woman like that. Because when you fall in love with a woman like that, whether she stays with you or not, whether she loves you or not, from a woman like that, you never come back.

Martha Riveria Garrido (via anavableu)

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b o o k s : part one

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

Born Confused by Tanuja Desai Hidier

A Northern Light by Sarah Donnely

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