Abstract Art He Says

All Girls are Angels in Their Dreams.

writing: Everyone is watching and looking and judging. I'm just meat to be consumed by others, I'm for others. And I should be grateful, oh please eat me and spit out what you hate. Pretty please sink your teeth into my flesh, eat me. Don't worry about the pain, I should he grateful. I am. I am. Don't yell. Use my flesh to silence your anger, your pain. Please. Oh do I hate this dream.

There was nothing resolute you could do about sadness, you were finding. You simply had to embrace the forlorn notions, and live out across the day, finding concentration in the other things you loved. Whilst realising that that thing you once loved was never coming back.

I saw on pinterest this post of (I think) a tumblr post of a poem. one of the lines went "I see love in everything, love sees everything in me." I am not sure who this person is (lmk if yall know) but they deserve credit for my new affirmation: I see love in everything, everything sees love in me.

You know when you wake up and your body hasn’t yet adjusted to the new day – and your mind is still congested and confused? Well, you can awake in that mode, and suddenly have a great fear for the future. Yesterday it was about money. And wondering what to do about getting some proper work later in life. You’re fine for money, at the moment. But, will you ever figure out a way to earn a decent amount? It’s okay right now – but that won’t last forever. And at the same time, you’ve just come out of sleep and you really need a pee. So you head along to the toilet, feeling monstrous. And you sit on the toilet and piss, and look in the mirror next to you: and you look like total crap. Heavy eyelids, grey hair, rough beard. You used to be semi comfortable with your looks, but, not so much these days. So you get up and head back to your bedroom and get into the bed again. Knowing that you won’t be able to sleep again. Because when your brain turns on in the morning, you can never switch it off again quickly. But what you can do is go back to that childish comfort of the warm bed. Just to stay there for a while. In the warmth of your covers. Especially with the one degree temperature beyond the window. Just reside in the heat for twenty minutes or so, so that you can regain a little physical power. After that, you can get up and put the clothes on and start the day for proper. And try and not be so afraid any more. Even if that’s often impossible to do.

Reblog if you ARE a woman in STEM, SUPPORT women in STEM, or ARE STILL BITTER about Rosalind Franklin not getting credit for discovering the structure of DNA and the Nobel prize going to Watson and Crick instead.

There was a simple joy in just staying up for a while longer. Consciousness could be exhausting. Often it was. But it could also be sublime. And so there was the option to go to sleep. But you thought you may as well just stay up. There was time to do things, learn things; and you didn’t need to be anywhere tomorrow. So, simply stay awake and keep your mind going for a little longer.

If I were a runner I'd be a sprinter

And if I were a painter I'd never buy varnish

If I were your rich great aunt I'd bore you with stories of a drunken Italy

And if I were a mother I'd eat my children in one sitting

If I were your girlfriend I'd be the summer to your tom

And if I were a musician I'd have five singles you had to buy separately and burn onto one disk

If I were a writer I'd be a poet

And if I were a poet I'd never breath a word of this to you

If only I were pretty in the way girls should be pretty.

If I had long flowing hair and gorgeous glowing eyes.

If I sucked it in so much my stomach just stays like that

If I cut the gap into my thighs

Do you think that would work?

Remolding myself like a sculpture

scrapping away the unwanted and ugly

freeing the girl whos pretty in the right way

Being pretty because I am and not because Im not

hear me out

girl pretty

unconventional

body positivity

why can't I just be pretty?

in the way girls are supposed to be pretty

Pretty like the ocean lean and blue and bright

Pretty like the setting sky colorful and stretched and impermanent

pretty like a whoring pig in a wig

except I don't have the money for a nice wig

and Im not pretty enough to be a whore

glass

the earth grumbles beneath you. the walls rattle the hanging picture frames. the glass shatters on the floor, releasing those memories like ghosts seeking closure. you desperately dig through the folds and frantically search the corners. you find nothing but the answer blinding your eyes. knees colliding with the hardwood floor, your heart lets out an agonizing wail, a painful yearning cry. i stand at the door and observe, careful not to step on the shards of glass. after a moment, you grow silent, staring out over the horizon. you are still, except for the rising and falling of your chest as you take hovering breaths. it was inevitable.

I am made of flesh I am made of bone

most of which is my very own

I am made of muscle I am made of skin

the likes of which resembles my kin

I am made of stardust I am made of rain

I carry with me my mothers pain

I am made of laughter I am made of sorrow

I am someones dream of a better tomorrow