fragilis reblogged
At your best you still won’t be good enough for the wrong person. At your worst, you’ll still be worth it to the right person.
Source: wnq-anonymous
fragilis reblogged
The worst thing in the world can happen, but the next day the sun will come up. And you will eat your toast. And you will drink your tea.
Rhian Ellis, from After Life
fragilis reblogged
soon you’ll realize that many people will love the idea of you but will lack the maturity to handle the reality of you.
Reyna Biddy
fragilis reblogged
You ruin your life by desensitizing yourself. We are all afraid to say too much, to feel too deeply, to let people know what they mean to us. Caring is not synonymous with crazy. Expressing to someone how special they are to you will make you vulnerable. There is no denying that. However, that is nothing to be ashamed of. There is something breathtakingly beautiful in the moments of smaller magic that occur when you strip down and are honest with those who are important to you. Let that girl know that she inspires you. Tell your mother you love her in front of your friends. Express, express, express. Open yourself up, do not harden yourself to the world, and be bold in who, and how you love. There is courage in that.
Bianca Sparacino How To Ruin Your Life (Without Even Noticing That You Are)
Source: connotativewords
fragilis reblogged
featherumbrellas-deactivated201
It doesn’t happen over night,
but one morning you will wake on a different side of the bed
and you are going to let the day break on your thighs
and you aren’t going to flinch.
One morning you will wake
with fists uncurled and
without an urge to shatter your mirrors:
your bloody ritual of loathing—
your bloody ritual of shame cracking into a crystal,
careless pattern
One morning you will wake
with a youth in your heart that has the energy for repair
and you won’t need a reflection to tell you who you are.
Alessia Di Cesare, On Waking With Self-Love
fragilis reblogged
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
They fuck you up, […]
They may not mean to, but they do.
Philip Larkin, from This Be The Verse
fragilis reblogged
fragilis reblogged
If you’re feeling small today I dare you to sit up straighter, look someone who scares you directly in the eye, take up room at the dinner table, make yourself bigger, when ‘sorry’ laps at the back of your tongue, tries to pick up after you, remind yourself that your existence doesn’t demand an apology, that you are allowed to make mess and take up space, do not be afraid to expand. Every single goddamn minute. Expand, expand, expand
fragilis reblogged
[love letter to self]
i don’t think so. but, i forgive you, girl, who tallied stretch marks into reasons why no one should get close. i forgive you, silly girl, sweet breath, decent by default. i forgive you for being afraid. did everything betray you? even the rain you love so much made rust out of your jewellery? i forgive you, soft spoken girl speaking with fake brash voice, fooling no one. i see you, tender even on your hardest days. i forgive you, waiting for him to call, i forgive you, the diets and the cruel friends. especially for that one time you said ‘i fucking give up on love, it’s not worth it, i’d rather be alone forever’. you were just pretending, weren’t you? i know you didn’t mean that. your body, your mouth, your heart, made specifically for loving. sometimes the things we love, will kill us, but weren’t we dying anyway? i forgive you for being something that will eventually die. perishable goods, fading out slowly, little human, i wouldn’t want to be in a world where you don’t exist.
Warsan Shire, “and were you being good to yourself?”
fragilis reblogged
Be alone. Eat alone, take yourself on dates, sleep alone. In the midst of this you will learn about yourself. You will grow, you will figure out what inspires you, you will curate your own dreams, your own beliefs, your own stunning clarity, and when you do meet the person who makes your cells dance, you will be sure of it, because you are sure of yourself.
Bianca Sparacino
fragilis reblogged
Let me be crystal clear: if you’ve faced a tragedy and someone tells you in any way, shape or form that your tragedy was meant to be, that it happened for a reason, that it will make you a better person, or that taking responsibility for it will fix it, you have every right to remove them from your life.
Grief is brutally painful. Grief does not only occur when someone dies. When relationships fall apart, you grieve. When opportunities are shattered, you grieve. When dreams die, you grieve. When illnesses wreck you, you grieve.
So I’m going to repeat a few words I’ve uttered countless times; words so powerful and honest they tear at the hubris of every jackass who participates in the debasing of the grieving:
Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.
Source: timjlawrence.com
It’s easy to feel uncared for when people aren’t able to communicate and connect with you in the way you need. And it’s so hard not to internalize that silence as a reflection on your worth. But the truth is that the way other people operate is not about you. Most people are so caught up in their own responsibilities, struggles, and anxiety that the thought of asking someone else how they’re doing doesn’t even cross their mind. They aren’t inherently bad or uncaring — they’re just busy and self-focused. And that’s okay. It’s not evidence of some fundamental failing on your part. It doesn’t make you unloveable or invisible. It just means that those people aren’t very good at looking beyond their own world. But the fact that you are — that despite the darkness you feel, you have the ability to share your love and light with others — is a strength. Your work isn’t to change who you are; it’s to find people who are able to give you the connection you need. Because despite what you feel, you are not too much. You are not too sensitive or too needy. You are thoughtful and empathetic. You are compassionate and kind. And with or without anyone’s acknowledgment or affection, you are enough.
Source: wnq-anonymous.com
fragilis reblogged
Just his hands
in a city with no streetlights
and they are nowhere
near my body.
Just a round body
with so much unbruised skin.
Just a stranger’s house
and a catastrophe of sound
in the basement. And a girl
outside swaying
and though my breath smells
like a target,
no one comes for me.
Originally published by Persephone’s Daughters
fragilis reblogged
It’s a strange thing, how you can love somebody, how you can be all eaten up inside with needing them – and they simply don’t need you. That’s all there is to it, and neither of you can do anything about it. And they’ll be the same way with someone else, and someone else will be the same way about you and it goes on and on – this desperate need – and only once in a rare million do the same two people need each other.
Madeleine L'Engle, from ‘The Small Rain’