“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”—Anaïs Nin
“I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it’s hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while everyone else is frozen, I can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep.”—Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (via larmoyante)
I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.
I am tired of fighting with my friends. I am tired of arguing that someone groping and slapping my butt isn’t “what I have to expect”, just because I’m at a bar, and the one attacking my butt has a drink in the other hand. I am tired of hearing “boys will be boys” and “when you’re dressed like that …” and “that’s just what guys do”. I am tired of trying to drown those sentiments in loud, repetitive no’s, screamed over and over again, till my throat is sore and my voice weak – just to hear them repeated, as soon as exhaustion threatens to silence me.
I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of seeing someone writing something offensive, sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, somewhere online. I am tired of seeing those writings getting likes and lol’s, and SO TRUE’s. I am tired of being consumed by confusion and anger, typing, typing, typing and typing a seemingly endless response, including research, links and statistics, and then hesitate clicking “submit”. I am tired of knowing that I hesitate because I am afraid of the flood of responses that will come. I am tired of knowing that I will be bombarded with lighten up’s, stop whining’s and get a sense of humor’s for so long, that I will start to wonder if I am indeed wound up too tight, a nagger and humorless. I am tired of the fact that I’m afraid of being called a cunt, even though I don’t find genitalia insulting or demeaning.
“Name ten things you wanna do before you die and then go do them. Name ten places you really wanna be before you die and then go to them. Name ten books you wanna read before you die and then go read them. Name ten songs you wanna hear again before you die, get all of your friends together and scream them, because right now all you have is time but someday that time will run out. That’s the only thing you can be absolutely certain about. Think of all the things that are wrong with your life and then fix them, think of all the things that you love about your life be thankful you are blessed with them, think of all the things that hold you back and realize that you don’t need them, think of all the mistakes you have made in your life, make sure that you never repeat them because right now all you have is time but someday that time will run out. That’s the only thing you can be absolutely certain about. Name ten thousand reasons why you never wanna die, go and tell someone who might’ve forgotten try to list the endless reasons why it’s good to be alive and then just smile for awhile about them, soon the sun will rise and another day will come, soon enough the sun will set, another day will be gone and right now all you have is time, but someday that time will run out.”—Paul Baribeau, Ten Things (via deathcatsforqt)