I was really afraid that everybody would hate me for being so mean to Colin and Bradley, but actually people come up and congratulate me on treating them so horribly, so maybe that’s just that they like me and don’t like them. - Katie McGrath (x)
I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers.
We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin.
Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come.
I think that has to be part of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book. I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scar of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you.
And I will not be afraid of your scars.
I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know:
Whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap, your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.
It’s funny, how when women are ugly they are mocked for it, but when women perfect the art of makeup, skin, nails and beauty they are mocked for that too. It’s almost like if you’re a woman you’re mocked no matter what you do. Me? I sell makeup. I sell confidence. I sell gorgeous door to door.
They say Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel with paintbrushes no bigger than his finger, but could he paint a masterpiece on his face, at seven in the morning, with his daughter pulling on his skirt, and his husband hollering about how breakfast is late, and only 20 minutes to get everyone off to school? It’s funny, how when men create beauty it’s a masterpiece and when a woman creates beauty it’s just what she’s supposed to be
Me? I sell new beginnings. I sell a blank canvas, and your own brushes, and your own paint. I sell the chance to be your own greatest creation.
When you are 13 years old,
the heat will be turned up too high
and the stars will not be in your favor.
You will hide behind a bookcase
with your family and everything left behind.
You will pour an ocean into a diary.
When they find you, you will be nothing
but a spark above a burning bush,
still, tell them
Despite everything, I really believe people are good at heart.
When you are 14,
a voice will call you to greatness.
When the doubters call you crazy, do not listen.
They don’t know the sound
of their own God’s whisper. Use your armor,
use your sword, use your two good hands.
Do not let their doubting
drown out the sound of your own heartbeat.
You are the Maid of Untamed Patriotism.
Born to lead armies into victory and unite a nation
like a broken heart.
When you are 15, you will be punished
for learning too proudly. A man
will climb onto your school bus and insist
your sisters name you enemy.
When you do not hide,
he will point his gun at your temple
and fire three times. Three years later,
in an ocean of words, with no apologies,
you will stand before the leaders of the world
and tell them your country is burning.
When you are 16 years old,
you will invent science fiction.
The story of a man named Frankenstein
and his creation. Soon after you will learn
that little girls with big ideas are more terrifying
than monsters, but don’t worry.
You will be remembered long after
they have put down their torches.
When you are 17 years old,
you will strike out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig
one right after the other.
Men will be afraid of the lightening
in your fingertips. A few days later
you will be fired from the major leagues
because “Girls are too delicate to play baseball”
You will turn 18 with a baby on your back
leading Lewis and Clark
across North America.
You will turn 18
and become queen of the Nile.
You will turn 18
and bring justice to journalism.
You are now 18, standing on the precipice,
trembling before your own greatness.
This is your call to leap.
There will always being those
who say you are too young and delicate
to make anything happen for yourself.
They don’t see the part of you that smolders.
Don’t let their doubting drown out the sound
of your own heartbeat.
You are the first drop of a hurricane.
Your bravery builds beyond you. You are needed
by all the little girls still living in secret,
writing oceans made of monsters and
throwing like lightening.
You don’t need to grow up to find greatness.
You are stronger than the world has ever believed you to be.
The world laid out before you to set on fire.
All you have to do
today someone bent their head to look at me, their face barely inches (-why are we using the american- anyway) away from mine as I stared at the ground accidentally holding the door for them (they walked too fast I thought it best to just hold the door rather than stubbornly cut in). They said “hello” and stunned I replied “hi” and we moved on. Stunned because of the proximity but also because we on unsaid mutual agreement mostly ignore each other in a tiny cohort of two hundred people. It is always when I am in that state of non-thoughts, non-emotion, a daze you could call it, that they choose to say something. “Hi”, “hello”, or just a jump straight into conversation that my brain just accepts because it’s them or their voice or their tone or their vocabulary and slang that has various intonations of childhood and home. There’s a pattern to their choices but I’m not seeing it. There’s a kindness to it, pulling me out of my reverie, a care of underlying ‘are you okay’ and a ‘just so you know that I’m still here’. Maybe I’m thinking too much. I don’t want to talk about it yet at the same time I wish I had a personal consultant that I could spend time with just unravelling the complexity of this one person and our relationship. That’s what friends are for. I wish I trusted them but really I’m just afraid for them to tell me that everything is in my head.
This made me cry I don’t knkw what to do
Serendipity (names, places, mapbuilding, etc.)
Quick Story Idea
Full Story Idea
really just all of Seventh Sanctum
Fantasy Story Situaton
Chaotic Shiny is just really good in general
reblog for my own reference
/high pitched screeching
if you need ideas for practicing? these are really helpful