Me So Very Much - Tumblr Posts

Don’t you dare, for one minute, believe that my kindness makes me anything but insurmountable. I did not unzip my chest to every kind of hurt, and stagger back, wounded and alive, just to hear you call me weak for trying. I opened my door to Heartache— I gave her the fucking key. My softness for wayward strangers has made me nothing less than a halfway house for aching soles. So when you open your mouth and call me ‘baby’ understand that I am not your next victim in a laundry list of broken girls. You think I don’t know you? People like you? People with mouths for hands. I’ve got skin like topsoil and your teeth could never take root. So when you go looking to make a plaything of a sunburst, you better look for someone with less fire than me. Because softness or no, I will eat you alive before I let you make a meal of me.

Softness, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

In grade school, I pigeon-holed my skeleton into any crawlspace I could find because little girls weren’t supposed to have backbones. I walked to school with my insides on the outside—I never unlearned how to be that raw. That exposed. I couldn’t fit the bones back into my body, so with my skull fitted over my head like a helmet, I readied my softness for battle. I was unashamed to be the flower-girl in the combat zone. One day, I would plunge my fist into the pomegranate, and dare them to make a victim of Persephone. I didn’t know that childhood fear could grow into a rage this mighty, but I will march with my beating heart like a beating drum, through the marshes of it’s own destruction. I will come out on the other side, and the blood in my mouth will be mine and I will go kissing old wounds with the copper tang of it. I am scouring the Badlands of my body. I am climbing the peaks of the words they used against me. I am painting pictures of dead men on the palms of my hands, so there will be no such thing as surrender.

THE POMEGRANATE, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes.

Ferdinand de Saussure (via fyp-philosophy)

To some it might’ve seemed callous, the way she boxed up her pain and set it aside, but I knew her well enough now to understand. She had a heart the size of France, and the lucky few whom she loved with it were loved with every square inch—but its size made it dangerous, too. If she let it feel everything, she’d be wrecked. So she had to tame it, shush it, shut it up. Float the worst pains off to an island that was quickly filling with them, where she would go to live one day.

Ransom Riggs, Library of Souls (via wordsnquotes)

I love myself when I am laughing… and then again when I am looking mean and impressive.

Zora Neale Hurston, I Love Myself When I Am Laughing… And Then Again: A Zora Neale Hurston Reader (via wordsnquotes)

I automatically assume people won’t like me, so I don’t talk to them unless they approach me first. I can’t become a part of a crowd because I can’t get past that feeling that I don’t belong.

Stephanie Kuehnert, Ballads of Suburbia  (via wordsnquotes)

the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind.’ the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing: ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’ the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year i learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’ the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it. the year of hugging people i don’t know, because i want to know them. the year i made peace and love, right here.

Warsan Shire (via peppermintcafe)

Perfectionism is very addictive because it is very seductive. It’s so great to think ‘There’s a way I can do things where I can never be held in judgment by other people, that I can totally escape criticism.’ But it doesn’t work.

Brené Brown, The Power of Vulnerability (via fyp-psychology)