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1. Your skin may never be perfect, and that’s okay.

2. Life is too short not to have the underwear, the coffee, and the haircut you want.

3. Everyone (including your family, your coworkers, and your best friend) will talk about you behind your back, and you’ll talk about them too. It doesn’t mean you don’t love each other.

4. It’s okay to spend money on things that make you happy.

5. Sometimes without fault or reason, relationships deteriorate. It will happen when you’re six, it will happen when you’re sixty. That’s life.

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Five things I am trying very hard to accept (via aumoe)

Love this

(via t-ruthful)

(via ohlookanotherfangirl)

hypnoticwinter:

Bloodlines

The last time I was home I was 18 years old
& here I am again & there’s already
dirt in my bed. I like the tall tree in our backyard
the most: it is the only one free of snakes. Snakes
crawl around the others like crowns of teeth.

When grandfather was alive
he  took me to that tree & picked me
an apple & told me about family, i.e., mothers tied
to mothers tied to mothers; now I am
the only daughter. Grandfather told me
about my birth: my mother cried until her face turned
transparent like the thinned out wine that my
father drinks at dinners, the wine my mother tries
to ignore: she’s terrified of her ancestors, all

drunk like barrels of young boys. I have three
brothers & they are all dead now: an ocean,
a car, a tree branch sprinkles with bursts of lightning.  

I don’t think about them anymore.

Instead,
in bed,
at home again, I listen to my sheets as they rub
against my legs like a child’s chalk to sidewalk.   

These days most of my dreams
are about my grandfathers: one was arrested &
the other an alcoholic but they knew how to love
the way ghosts do, all hushed & subtle & muted & colored quietly.

One day I will learn how to sing
the way the women at the local church do.
I know nothing about Christ, but I still
stand outside the open stained glass window
with my eyes closed & pretend that I can feel
the pews pressing against my body like a boy’s hands. 


hypnotic sez:

This is probably the best poem I’ve read all month.