I'm sick of being used for other peoples' character development

Clinical paperwork

All I do is study so I might as well romanticize it

i study, i think about studying, then i study some more. — paris geller, gilmore girls 📖

who cares if I am pretty, if I fail my finals.

rory gilmore study inspo

“HOW TO BE THE GIRL HE WANTS: the first time someone tells you these words I hope you stick out your hand and catch the letters in the air I hope you crunch them in your fist I hope you shove them back into the mouth they flew out of I hope and pray you are not eight years old and hanging off of a shopping cart and groaning about how bored you are, I hope you were not young like I was the first time I read a magazine on a shelf underneath the candy I hope you weren’t young because I still thought everything I read had to be true - but better yet, I hope these words never find you. They tell you to be strong but it’s the little things like this that sit on our hips and tangle in our hair and feel like bees when the night gets dark. It’s the little things we could never ever shake off because the minute we tried, we discovered there were more waiting for us. HOW TO LOOK GOOD FOR SUMMER: smile more often. I hope the first time someone calls you fat, you shimmy your shoulders and wink and feel like a goddess and take it as a compliment. I hope you are not the new kid in a fifth-grade class, glasses on your nose and your hair in tangles. I hope nobody ever touched your tummy and asked if you were embarrassed by the way it jiggles. I hope if you ever hear those words, you reach out your beautiful fingers and touch the temple of the person talking and ask, “Are you embarrassed your brain works like that?” See, I have not gained weight since the eight grade and I’m twenty. I have had about four hundred people tell me I’m skinny but it’s only the two or three voices about the thickness of my thighs and the fat on my hips - these are the only voices that stick. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Take a bath. Stare at your reflection. Count the flecks beside your iris. Promise yourself you’re not going to ruin your life - you won’t let them win. Don’t let that moment cause ripples. Yank out the cruelty from your system. HOW TO HAVE BETTER SEX: stop faking it. Stop engineering your body to be a call-and-response of bruises and shots. I hope you are not fifteen the first time a boy kisses you hard. I hope you do not go home with a bloody mouth and spend the rest of your life thinking love is stained with iron. I hope you are not swallowing your sanity to be with somebody. I hope the first time you let someone touch you, they are someone worthy of your trust - I hope that nobody tries to force you into a label like “frigid” or “slut.” In the animal world, most males have bright plumage so they can attract mates. In humans, we expect ladies to look a certain way. When you break out of the norm, suddenly you’re rattling chains. How dare you not want sex and still look this way. Maybe people are scared of admitting your body has power - it can turn heads in a baggy sweatshirt. Your body doesn’t need a magazine’s confirmation. Your body’s been through hell and still keeps on living. Put on your heels and stalk down the sidewalk. Take off your makeup. Do what you need to feel awesome. HOW TO BE COMFORTABLE IN YOUR OWN SKIN: ignore everything they tell you. Don’t let them in.”

— Maybe one day I’ll make a list of every single terrible magazine I’ve read. I think I’m gonna start an advice column called “If it makes them money, it’s probably not good.” /// r.i.d

The Huntington Herald, Huntington, Indiana, August 15, 1903

I am a mosaic of everyone I have ever loved

Their heart beats resound in my soul

Each fiber of my being is a piece of them

the smell of lavender

My nana often left it out in her home

the taste of cinnamon scones

My first love gave me reason to try

I often find myself watching films

That those I longed for past and present

Showed me

They’re like a blanket

Doing and loving these things

Give me a taste of what used to be

And what never will

The temporary comfort is worth

The weeks of pain

Winter was veiled in a gentle pink

The gentle grasp of her lips brushing over my hands

I am intoxicated by the feeling of her body against me

It falls upon me as snow graces the earth

Her breath came in small clouds

Floating up up up

Caressing the heavens —even the angels fell in love

The snow glows over the hills

As I imagine her thighs in the early morning

Cool sweet with raw beauty

Without saying a word I beg for her to be here again

Watching the clouds

Feeling the wind against my cheeks

Cold but I’m home

Because I know when the spring comes and the snow melts

She’ll be gone

An outline left in my sheets

A promise that is wasn’t me

And I will wait

come on brain yip yip

source

the concept of foundation is really so evil to me…a liquid skin you paint on to cover your natural skin…To market that as a normal and even necessary product…only to women…evil. If no one tells our fathers they look sick or tired or dull without $40 pore clogging paint on their faces that shouldn’t be the message we get either!

i've developed an unfortunate habit of pointing at men who look like how i want to look and saying "gender!" and the other day my friend was like, "Ellison, he's not 'gender' just because he has long hair and bones in his face." and it's haunted me ever since.

“Novembers are for softest sleep when skies are dark and grey. They do not mind the time you keep when night looks much like day. They do not mind the rain that falls so warmly down your cheek. ‘Rest easy now’ is what they’d say if months knew how to speak.”

— Ellis Nightingale