I always wondered what love was supposed to feel like.
I never got the chance to experience it through my mother’s eyes, because she left before I was old enough to even understand what cooties were.
And my poor father worked until nightfall everyday. God knows that he barely had the energy to drive home afterward.
So I had to learn the hard way.
I learned through fictional books, old movies, and even infatuated strangers. I mean, didn’t we all wish we could have been Cinderella or Prince Charming? And God forbid we ever had to be Romeo or Juliet.
But I had to get a taste of the best and worst of both worlds to learn that love is a punch to the stomach that brings you to your knees, only to become the hand that helps you back up again.
Love is a beautiful sunset that soon leaves you in the dark, only to remind you that it will rise shortly after.
Love is nearly drowning in the ocean, only for you to remember that you’re just inches away from the surface.
Love is being in the middle of a war zone, only for you to realize that you’re the last one standing.
Love is flatlining on a hospital bed, only for a miracle waiting to happen moments after.
Love isn’t always patient.
And love certainly isn’t always kind.
But love is a lesson that I had to learn to ever realize that my heart was, indeed, still beating.
As women, we are taught to be tiny. To have small bodies, to never be imposing. The ideal of our gender are thin and childlike, hairless and dainty. We are defined by our bodies; defined by our control over them. We are taught to obsess over our physicality and to be repulsed by our desires and intelligences.
We are taught to walk scared late at night. We cradle our keys between our perfectly manicured fingers, walking gracefully like a baby antelope in a herd of lions. That our virginity defines our character. That I am a frigid bitch if I do not fuck him, and a dirty slut if I do.
Today someone made a very simple request of me: to see the best picture of me I had & they weren’t referring to nudes, because I don’t have any of those. & I looked & looked & looked…through all my social media sites and electronic devices and nothing stood out. It wasn’t that I was tied between 2…
We are the girls with anxiety disorders, filled appointment books, five-year plans. We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving… We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac, and multivitamins… We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves, and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-aggressive as our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers… We are the daughters of the feminists who said, “You can be anything,” and we heard, “You have to be everything.
— Courtney Martin (via finedineonmyvegangenitalia)
this is my story. beginning. to end.(via lovelyandbrown)
This is the#truth