i used to be afraid of my reflection. everytime i looked at myself through the glass which stops translation, i would see the young teenage version of me. the sweet girl who ate tubs of ice cream thinking the sugar rush might numb her depression,
some people have sugar daddies - the real ones or the intimate ones. and then some people have themselves. if you have yourself i’m proud of you. you chose the journey. keep going.
i really wanna be into twitter bc i’ve been told by two deeply intelligent humans that it’s the place to be rn but dude, my thoughts have never been one liners
i was today years old when i found out that if you aren’t shitting like you’re deep in a f forest, then UP TO 40% OF YOUR SHIT GETS STUCK INSIDE OF YOU
the bold neon eyeliner against her eyelids begging for someone to see her in the hallways she’d been pushed around in, the layers of cloth covering her skin as she didn’t think it would ever be more than average. i used to see that girl and feel pity for her,
over the time she grew into the woman i see today in that reflection. and i never look at her skin, eye liner, tears or any of these physicalities. i look into her eyes and i smile, i laugh, i cry with her tears of joy because i am alive.
i used to feel sorry that she wasn’t strong enough to ignore those around her who were simply intimated by her light. then i finally spent some time to eye gaze with her. hours, days, weeks would go by and each day i would look into my eyes and tell her i love her.