Trista Mateer, from a poem featured in her collection titled The Dogs I Have Kissed
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@w33dwitch
Trista Mateer, from a poem featured in her collection titled The Dogs I Have Kissed
I miss you so much, Dad. I know you were there with me in spirit. I know you wanted to go so bad. I wish you could've stayed to at least see it. Your little girl got to be a princess for a day.
Loved but never forgotten.
Felicidades
How'd you know? Thanks. You should know you don't have to hide behind anonymity. I'm different now. I'm safe now. Reach out to me.
I ran to get as far away as I could only to end up in the one place in the entire world i never wanted to settle down and im sick; I don't want to leave the house. I don't do my makeup. I'm usually crying these days. If you did see me, all you would recognize is the same messy curls I never learned how to manage.
I'm so sick. Would you see it on my face before I mentioned it? Would we even say hello?
i must've been fucking evil in a past life to deserve any of this lmao.
fuck i can’t believe i wasted my entire life being moved by art and beauty and the indomitable human spirit ugh i should’ve been making money through internet scams
Proud to announce to all of you that I allowed to sexualize me for years, that I have reached a point in life and mental illness and resurfaced trauma that at this point,
I'm basically born again. Sorry dudes and dykes, this reformed hypersexual is now essentially asexual.
I wanna thank the following for aiding in me reaching this point in purity; my mom for doing unthinkable things to me, C for raping me right before I went to college, D for coercing me into group sex bc she wanted a unicorn for her bf while I was violently drunk and sobbing, N for... everything (I was 18; you were 27 and married and my boss-- why me? Because I let you do anything.), AJ for raping me at your birthday party and leaving me with the deepest, blackest bruises I've ever carried and all of the creeps here who begged to see me for years.
My body wasn't mine my entire life; no-one gets to hold it the way I do, now.
the gag of the century is there's been so many little loves here and there, so many people probably think i'm posting for them but only like 2 of those would be correct
(i hate myself why did I let so many touch me and know me)
the years have made me weird and strange to talk to. but still i must post
Since I was 17, I gave you everything; we wake from a dream... well baby, what was that?
i have to tell you by Dorothea Grossman
bearable (id under the cut)
I just want to see you, please