"You would look okay if you lost weight."
Like I didn’t already know,
As if I hadn’t been aware since that moment in third grade gym class I realized I was bigger, slower than the others
And eventually that “fat” is synonymous with “ugly”, “unwell”, “unworthy”.

The worst part is I told him, “I know.”

What I want to ask him now is if the numbers go down,
Will I feel “okay”, too?
If I drop a size or two,
Will I stop being a mistake?
The seventy-five cent candybar you would never actually pay for?
“I don’t want it but I’ll have it if it’s free.”

Look, I am not some beast.
Food does not decide my mood for the day,
But neither does the number at my feet in the mornings.
I am a human being.
I have feelings
And yes I have bad days.
But I am not a sob story.
And I was not born to look “okay”.

This poem is not about a boy

kingsleyyy:

this hedgehog is cheering for u bc u can do anything image

(via sorelatable)


simplevikingguy:

earthdad:

princedollyjellyfish:

ohsocialjustice:

A very good way of going about explaining this issue. It’s good to see something positive come from Tumblr.

HOLY SHIT. THIS. THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL PEOPLE. SHUT YOUR MOUTH ABOUT MEN VS WOMEN. @_@

this is literally so important

This is the best example and illustration I have yet to find. If more people realized that this is what equality is pushing for then we would be better off.

(via marginallypoetic)


humansofnewyork:

"I know you were hoping for a senile man playing with his toys, but I’m putting together a donation for Housing Works."

humansofnewyork:

"I know you were hoping for a senile man playing with his toys, but I’m putting together a donation for Housing Works."


And they would say
‘She’s such a hungry girl’ but their faces would not fit their words.
I could see their true thoughts –
It is too much – she wants too much –
Eyes too big for her tiny tummy – she wants more than she can handle.

They forgot that I grew up in a cage,
My fingers and face pressed to the glass walls,
Always breaking the illusion of freedom
To those on the other side, who saw the colourful blood
Pushed from my flesh, till I was blueish pale and sickly.
My stomach was so small, but I knew it could stretch.
Then, I was just planning ahead, Designing dreams for the future.

It was a world that demanded so much
From a girl it would never give to.
You must remember it – don’t you remember
It, love? The incessant chime of
Not good enough
Not pretty enough
Not small enough not quiet enough not sweet enough.
Not enough not enough not enough –
Never enough.

And now I am a woman with a flame in my throat
Spitting back the words they used to bind me.
I never used to feel anything – a void of a child, empty and numb – but now –
But now emotion is my addiction.
I want space and stars and power and pain and pleasure.
I
Want
More.

I am a fire running through the forest –
Everything is caught in the blaze,
Until I run out of trees to jump to,
Out of green that I can consume.
I am a sandstorm you will not find your way out of –
You can try to run but your feet will sink
Into the desert dunes and
You will disappear into a cloud of dust.
I am the thing that lurks in your shadow –
Something caught in the periphery
It will be too late when you realise –
I will devour you, darling.

This world is never enough – will never be enough.
I will always ache for more, crave it desperately
Like the last few drops shaken violently from the bottle.

They still say
‘Such a hungry girl’ (although I am eighteen with sharp teeth and curved hips)
But hunger is not the word they should crown me with.
It is not a need that can be satisfied or satiated.
It is want, pure and selfish.
An unappeasable appetite.
The word they want (the word I want) is
More.

"La Fringale" Emma (via feministfatales)

(via backshelfpoet)


Q
Tell me something very happy and poetic that you wish someone would have told u please.
Anonymous
A

rustyvoices:

I have realized
that the moon
did not have to be full for us to love it,
that we are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it,
that if my heart
really broke
every time I fell from love
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now

But hearts don’t break y’all,

they bruise and get better.”

-Buddy Wakefield


coffeeandcheesecake:

thereichenbachfinn:

remember that time in high school musical 2 when Troy got all jealous because Gabriella started hanging out with Ryan and he thought Ryan was moving in on her

and it was like

image

really troy

image

really 

image

really

yeah if Troy had just taken a look at what was actually going on

image

he would have seen

image

who Ryan was actually interested in

image

THEY ARE WEARING EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES

(via enchantingblonde)


Allow yourself to be a beginner. No one starts off being excellent.
Wendy Flynn (via fawun)

(via feathers-andbones)


humansofnewyork:

“My grandmother always told me: ‘It doesn’t matter if you’re crippled, blind, or crazy. All this world cares about is how you survive. As long as you don’t do drugs or go to jail, you’re gonna be fine.’”“What do you mean by: ‘The world only cares about how you survive?’”“The only thing people care about is if you’re working, and if you’re paying your taxes. I worked for the city for six years. During the time that I was working, I was Mr. Matthew Phillips. The moment that I wasn’t able to work anymore, I became a social security number.’”

humansofnewyork:

“My grandmother always told me: ‘It doesn’t matter if you’re crippled, blind, or crazy. All this world cares about is how you survive. As long as you don’t do drugs or go to jail, you’re gonna be fine.’”
“What do you mean by: ‘The world only cares about how you survive?’”
“The only thing people care about is if you’re working, and if you’re paying your taxes. I worked for the city for six years. During the time that I was working, I was Mr. Matthew Phillips. The moment that I wasn’t able to work anymore, I became a social security number.’”


"Face the fire," they told me.
There is nothing to be afraid of.
Just take a deep breath,
And give it your best shot.

But what if the fire is me?
What if I am the flame
And the flame is relentless?

What then?


Everybody can be a Hero.

Everybody can be a Hero.



1nd2rd3st:

lifting-ink:

My daughter has been doing this for like 5 min straight now. Just trying to grab my tattoos

everyone needs to see this

(via kaiaaron97)



dear hands: i get it. you like writing poetry. but you can’t bring a metaphor to a gun fight.

Rudy Francisco

(via lipstickedstains)

(via backshelfpoet)