What Happens Now? @theendasiknowit - Tumblr Blog

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ii’m in love. real love this time. the kind of love that isn’t greedy or selfish or manipulative. i have what i’ve been chasing after all those years, i finally found what i used to look for in strangers beds and couch cushions.

schuylerpeck

The summers before we fell into routine, before we graduated and gave all our money to the corner liquor store. The summer you skipped work and showed me the tide pools in California, how we felt like children rediscovering the world; all starfish and baby crabs and wide eyes and cold, Pacific water. The summer I fell asleep in the curve of your spine. The road trips we listened to the same skipping songs for five hours and didn’t notice. I regret giving up so easily. I regret handing over our bodies to sink like kites with cut strings. Imagine where we’d be. To never grow old. To always know escape.

Schuyler Peck, I’M MAKING A LIVING OUT OF DAYDREAMS. (via schuylerpeck)

woefulwriting

My friend told me that the boy she’s talking to has been ignoring her for 17 hours. It made me laugh because she was so precise about the timing but it also brought back flashbacks. The days I’d be anxious and desperate for him to reply. I’d sit and wait and check my phone hundreds of times, only to be met with silence. I’d check if his Snapchat score went higher, wondering who he’s talking to and why he hasn’t replied to me. Am I too boring? Is he with friends and too ashamed to text me in their presence? My mind would race with all these possibilities and I was so naive to the truth: he didn’t like me. It took me half a year to come to the realization. A boy who truly wants you will make it known, don’t settle for anything less.

Things I wish I had known

collaredqueen

I am six years old Sitting in the principal’s office Because a boy on the playground Tried to look up my skirt. I am made a fool Because I did not wear shorts underneath. I am in trouble Because I am a girl. I am ten years old And I want to play football outside Because my cousins and uncles are playing. I am told to sit down Because I am wearing a pretty dress And my hair looks so nice today. They tell me to set the table for dinner Because I am a girl. I am twelve years old And a woman wants to be President. The world cares more about what she’s wearing Than her goals, beliefs, and dreams. She is berated for her pant suit And I start to think appearance is all that matters Because I am a girl. I am thirteen years old And my mother buys me my first tube of mascara. She tells me I don’t need it, No matter what the magazines say. I tell her I am ugly without it. She says don’t believe what they tell you, baby. But I do. Standing at the checkout in the grocery store, They make it seem like Getting this look and that guy Should be my highest ambition Because I am a girl. I am fourteen years old And the worst insult for a boy Is to be a called a girl. I am learning that what’s on my head Is more important than what’s in it. They say I should wear this and that To make him like me. Getting the guy should be my biggest priority Because I am a girl. I am fifteen years old And I start each sentence with “This might be wrong, but…” And I interrupt my outbursts with apologies Because I am taught that, yes, I am wrong. My confidence is low, My self-esteem is proportionate to Instagram likes. I begin to wonder what it’s like To believe in myself so much That I can shout out a dumb joke in class And interrupt my teacher. I’ve always kept my thoughts, No matter their importance, to myself Because I am a girl. I am sixteen years old And I learn about this thing called feminism. It rattles my bones and ignites a fire in my heart. I realize I have let my 6 year old self down Because only now do I start to see my worth. I see inequality in the world and want to change it But it is the most difficult thing I’ll ever do Because I am a girl. I am seventeen years old And I’m starting to apply to college. The essay question on the application Asks me about the hardest thing I’ve had to overcome. While boys are bragging about their biggest rivalry And how they once came in second place, I am talking about what it’s like To live in a world where I have to work harder To have less than they do Because I am a girl. I am eighteen years old And I tell my new friends at college This thing that I’m so passionate about. The guys use it as a punchline for a joke And they say they’re only kidding, But there is always some truth behind a good laugh. And it doesn’t matter to me, Because I finally get it. I finally know It’s not about what I look like or who likes me. It’s about doing my best, Loving myself. And showing the world resilience and strength Because I am a woman and I’m proud of it.

“a poem I wrote for my humanities class that turned into so much more” by m.e.d. (via collaredqueen)

pigmenting

My second grade teacher liked to ask us, “How do you feel today, on a scale of one to ten?” Ten always meant I’m super, thank you and one was always not today, Mrs. MacAuley, not today. But I never liked numbers, they would always twist and rebel against my mind so I chose to speak in colors instead. January third - I am the color of mint chocolate chip ice cream but I’ve eaten all the chocolate chips. I am calm. February seventh - I am a bruise of blues and violets today. I think it would be best if I sat by the window. These are unhappy colors. April eleventh - I am turquoise, I am magenta, I am every color in the rainbow. April thirtieth - I am gray, I am silent. May first - I am orange, the color of melting creamsicles on a beach in July. June twelfth - I am as yellow as the school bus that will bring me home to summer. I am free. Twelve years later, I still use colors. The winter makes me feel cobalt blue, the ocean turns me a seafoam green. Violets and purples leave me uneasy and scarlet is a fever of fury. Some nights I drown in shades of navy, denim, and cornflower but other nights I meditate in forests of harlequin and shamrock. But you, you leave me a blinding white followed by a soft yellow: the color of sunlight after a period of darkness.

Kelsey Danielle, “A Diary of Colors” (via pigmenting)

i read this poem years ago, and it will always remain as a favorite.

(via pouvoires)

extrasad

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you. (via extrasad)

clementinevonradicspoems

I buy all your favorite foods so I will be ready when you come home because once I did this and you said “This is how I know you love me.” I go on long walks alone and think about a poem my friend wrote that goes “This is how you die by distance.” I hum the sound of the dial tone under my breath. I stare at my hands and wonder at their uses. I consider pawning my thighs. I consider auctioning off my hip bones. I put my breasts in a box on the top shelf of the closet. I do not need them now. I think of all the thing I have to tell you when I will see you. Stories like: I just found out pumpkins are technically fruits and Cary Grant’s first job was in a traveling circus and Most mammals are born able to walk and learn to run within minutes, so we are not crazy for moving so fast. This morning I wrote your name in the steam on my mirror, even though I knew it would fade within minutes. In my best notebook I wrote “I miss you” ten thousand times. I wrote “I think I am missing one of my ribs” I wrote “I envy the way leaves know exactly when to fall from the branches and when to come back in the spring” I wrote “Everyone else isn’t you. It turns out that’s a huge problem for me.”

Clementine von Radics, Things I Do When I Cannot Hold You (via clementinevonradicspoems)

whisperingbones

marry me. let’s spend our week nights eating cereal on the floor when there is a perfectly fine table behind us. we can go to the movies and sit in the back row just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time. marry me. we’ll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than the walls. we can hold hands and go to parties we end up ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub. marry me. and slow dance with me in our bedroom with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand. let me love you forever. marry me.

slow mornings drinking coffee naked in bed and your hands on my face when you kiss me goodnight. marry me. d.a.h (via whisperingbones)

inkskinned

I am sick of the girl being pretty once her glasses come off. I’m sick of the boy suddenly staring at her because she’s taken her hair out of a bun. I’m sick of that dances that she said she didn’t want to attend suddenly being the place where she shows up and learns to live. I want a movie where she gets kissed because her lab goggles left circles around her eye sockets. Where she doesn’t go to the dance and isn’t ashamed of it. Where she wins the science fair and the way the blue ribbon looks on her makes somebody’s knees weak. I want a movie where the girl doesn’t get tamed. Where she’s still a badass bitch at the end of it. Where she doesn’t need a man because she has a killer girlfriend who is a cute nerdy radio technician. Where her freckles don’t get concealed on the big night. Where she shows up to prom in a suit and a model on her arm. I want a movie where the queen bee is also a 4.0 student. Where she wears makeup and styles her hair and gets her work done. Where the pretty girl is also pure of heart, works on the weekends at soup kitchens, shows up with heels on. Where the queen bee lets the new girl have the boy because she doesn’t see the point in trying to compete. Where they end up friends at the end and the boy ends up with nothing. I want a movie where girls are art without having to be painted over. Where we are beautiful without reason, where we don’t need to prove ourselves as being worth a boy’s affections. I want a movie where we don’t have to be secretly fuckable in order to get a happy ending.

We look good in a red ballgown and also while reading a book and also while burning this whole thing down. // r.i.d (via martinsaurus)

excerptsofstories

Some days I want you. Some days I’m glad we’re no longer how we used to be. Some days i wake up hoping to see a text from you. Some days I’m glad you never text. Some days I can’t imagine my life without you. Some days I can’t imagine you being in my life for any longer.

Excerpt from a book I will never write #1388 // everyday i wonder about what could we have been (via excerptsofstories)

strawberryinstantoatmeal-deacti

i remember being like 11 and asking my dad why he hunts and kills deer and he said “because i think theyre beautiful” and that’s just. that’s just what men are like

werewolfofsector2814

Yeah… &?

Is it any different that women seeing cute things & wanting to squish their face?

genderidentitty

Is killing different than endearing physical contact? Local man unsure

gotaproblemwithyourtunes

Proof Americans know the selling petrol bit

3amwritting

But then xyz came before abc 321 was the new 123 He loves me he loved me not Those roses aren’t red anymore They’d turn brown eventually, so I was taught A world came crashing down Upon arrival to the ground, upside down Taunting,chanting, loudly replays that cliche “nothings ever as it seems” I guess I didn’t notice until things fell apart at the seams Did I have it in me to set things straight? Maybe, could it be a new kind of fate? Replacing what I knew for something new Wait. Is there anything left I need to see through? Something ending Something starting A continuation or two What’s ended What’s started Attempting to glance over my shoulder For once Im not getting colder I think I’m getting closer I’d figure it out but there’s no time to think Only time to swim or sink.

@sandralidell (via 3amwritting)