just don't.

lol maybe if i keep listening to power pop i will be less dead inside?

For Women Who Are Difficult to Love

mytongueisforked:

apoemaday:

by Warsan Shire

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love

not yr teachable moment, not yr art, not yrs at all

themodernistwitch:

(Content: graphic depictions of abuse)

Bound woman, hanging slave, child of wartime: pictures xeroxed so often, repurposed, recontextualized, that we forget that the people in the initial photographs are real.

That suffering has much to teach us about life is nothing new - but the only way we learn is by enduring it ourselves. It does not debase or ennoble us. It gives us new circumstances, new challenges. It further complicates the world. No good or evil, no right or wrong, only what gets us from one breath to the next without hurting those around us, without replicating the pain we know intimately. Most of us try very hard not to do that. Some of us succeed most of the time.

Suffering does not teach us truths about human nature. It does not make us more interesting. Some of us fight because we have the fight in us. Some of us fight because survival is a human imperative. Some of us do not fight. We are not better or worse, tragic figures or heroes, for choosing any one of these paths. We are complicated people who have made complicated choices based on our individual situations and resources.

I was raped more than once. I struggled with drug addiction. I tried to kill myself more than once. These are facts. Every day I see characters with my life circumstances who in no way actually resemble me or the many other people I know who have lived through these things. We are plot devices, we are narrative hooks, we are there to tell you about you, to reflect back to you what we have learned without all the pain, the difficulties, the shuttering relationships and stops and starts. We are not linear. We cannot tell our stories to those who have not lived them without making them comprehensible and thus falling prey to narrative devices that do us disservices.

I write about my life, among other things, because the truth needs to be messy and I do not want to exist to tell glib generalized fictive falsehoods. My hell was not profound. It was banal.

I am not ‘offended’ by these depictions. I am irritated because they are dehumanizing and untrue, and because many of the people utilizing these depictions do not know intimately what it is like to be in these positions, to stand there with a gun against your temple - loaded? Unloaded? and the arm of someone you used to warm yourself against, used to lock eyes with when you fucked, constricting your neck and that hiss in your ear. They do not know what it is like to truly run for your life on tiny legs half the length of your pursuer’s, how your bone feels like it’s going to strike out of your skin with every step. They do not know what it is like to turn yourself off because you cannot feel any more, because you have hit your threshold. They do not know what it is like to bleed in the open and be called crazy for years to come, to have your face smashed into a sink because you are a fucking dyke, to hate everything about yourself so clearly because only people who deserve it have to go through things like this, right?

Random and monstrous, boring and sick. When you use these stories without knowing them inside, when you use them if they are not yours to use, we know, we bristle, we think: do we even get our own experiences, do we even get our own words, do we even get our own selves. Consider that before you step.

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT

everytime i see that someone is married, or getting married or wants to be

brattyveganslut:

my automatic thought is

"gross, can you not"

so real

loving all the “rad people” in my life who are hypercritical of women and queers in our “communities” but give endless free passes/never question the men who also exist in these spaces

chicago-diy:

there are THREE shows next weekend, punk never dies

hi boots is playin a show next saturday cum hangout w me

https://bootsiscute.bandcamp.com/releases

https://www.facebook.com/events/1474928226091286/

endlessselfiesforthepussyfo0ter:

hi w0rld

nips for days

endlessselfiesforthepussyfo0ter:

hi w0rld

nips for days

i have been playing drums for a year!

thanks tyler for teaching me drums and being a patient angel

thanks other people for also being patient and starting bands with me even though i am a crappy drummer

thanks even more people for booking my band even though i am a crappy drummer…come celebrate this wit me by watching me play drums crappily at this show tonight: 

https://www.facebook.com/events/501528796659984/?ref=br_tf

no thanks to the fucking asshole drummer who asked me at Boots’ third or fourth show if it was our first show ever, and then told me to “keep up the good work” u r a useless pile of garbage

nothing is good really usually but learning drums has been really fucking empowering and that’s been super nice and needed

in other news, darbysouth gave me this pin and it is FUCKING PERFECT

in other news, darbysouth gave me this pin and it is FUCKING PERFECT