"Women are considered fragile but I’ve never seen anything as easily wounded as a man’s ego."

So I Had A Panic Attack And Literally Typed Everything I Was Thinking

It’s almost 3 a.m and I am paralyzed with the crippling fear that the world will eat me alive. I started thinking about school starting and how that’s stressing me out and then I realized “wait, that’s some bullshit lol because in a year you’ll have to start working and get a car and drive and handle a death machine responsibly before you graduate and never see these people that were once a huge part of your life, for better or worse, again and you’re going to have to go to college and pick out something to do for the rest of your life and no one will be there to hold your hand or stroke your hair when you get prissy because this is the real world” and there’s seven continents and 7 billion people, 70 years of life, and there’s dark alley ways, and traffic lights, and booze, and tall buildings that make you feel so much smaller. There’s people who say they love you and don’t mean it but what will that matter in a few years anyway? There’s wind, and it shakes me. I don’t know how to save money, I get scared when people stare at me. There are men, oh god, men either terrify or disgust me. There’s roaches in the world, who’s going to kill the fucking roaches? There’s dirty pennies, there’s empty stairways, I hate empty places. There are beautiful people with shaky hands in these ugly places. There’s piss in these stairways. People kill people. There’s dead flowers. There are rotting bodies in the ocean you swim in. There are puppies, but the people who kill people put them to “sleep” sometimes. I feel like even this vast world is still too small for us, it will eat me. Unless I grow harden skin, grab keys in fist, show teeth. I can’t laugh when I’m nervous anymore, I can’t twirl my hair in my fingers, I can’t let you in, friend. It’s dark and you have a penis and have you seen that story on the news? Sorry you two broke up, you want me to come over? I don’t like girls but I’ll give it a shot because I don’t think I’ll find another guy with palms as soft as his. What if I drink too much? and I’m remembering when I was 14 and he broke my heart and I swollowed NyQuil until the tears and sweat mixed with drowsiness and lulled me to sleep. I was stupid. And what if I get stupid again? God, I got angsty over a boy, imagine a miscarriage?! Imagine a rape, imagine my corpse. Imagine being broke. Imagine being ordinary. Imagine not being able to imagine. Imagine white fence, suburbs, finding gray hairs in the same locks all of you motherfuckers envied once. Imagine balding, beer-bellied husband, mediocre, vanilla sex. Imagine sagging tits and strollers and buying fucking better homes and gardens at Costco. Imagine taxes. I don’t even know what the fuck taxes are. PTA MEETINGS! FUCK YO PTA! IMAGINE GETTING GODDAMN DENTAL INSURENCE, OH GOD, DENTURES. Imagine life after death, am I good enough for heaven? what if after seventy years of life moving too fucking fast but not fast enough, you realize there’s nothing there? What if my last word was “fuck” and I burn forever, forever. Everything meant nothing, all the people I cried over, and loved, and my favorite food, and the time I ran in the street with sparklers in both hands meant nothing. Why the fuck am I doing this? I’m scared. And I don’t understand. All I can do is drink coffee and show cleavage, I’m not a woman. I cry and curse when I’m angry, I can’t fold laundry. I don’t want your dick in me. I don’t want a goddamn retirement plan. I don’t want the future. I want life, shit. Do we really spend all our lives planning for the future until there is none?





These make me so happy!!!


let me go to one of your crazy ass white ppl houses on halloween and just try to hand me an orange with celery in the hole i will beat your ass


(Source: myowntravellingcircus, via broadwaysexual)

My favourite most relevant poem from for coloured girls


“Save your sorry. One thing I don’t need is any more apologies.

I got sorry greeting me at my front door. You can keep yours.

I don’t know what to do with them.

I’m gonna have to throw some away

I can’t get to the clothes in my closet for all the sorry’s.

I’m gonna tack a sign on my door,…

"And tomorrow that’s all I’ve got going, that’s all I got. Being alive and being a woman, being colored is a metaphysical dilemma I haven’t conquered yet."

And This Is For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Is Enuff (via africangirlenglishaccent)