Why for once can I just be normal like everyone else? Why can’t I be happy like everyone else? Or lead normal lives? Why does this happen to me? Why do I have to live in fear? Why do I have to feel like this? It’s not fair and I hate myself for it.
“and you speak of a fever that burns you inside, as you explain to your mother how you have wanted to die. so she kisses your fingers and says, “my darling, but why? when there is so much more, there is so much more. do you know there are spaces open and wide? believe me, there are days longer than nights. and you will be happy the minute you try. so won’t you try? won’t you try?”—Conor Oberst (via meganmansyn)
“She asks why I like her.
Might as well ask
Why I breathe.
Maybe tomorrow I won’t
Breathe or like her
Maybe tomorrow the tides
Maybe tomorrow will bring
No more rainbows.
She will stop
Asking useless questions.”—Gail Carson Levine, The Wish (via larmoyante)
“It saddens me to see girls proudly declaring they’re not like other girls – especially when it’s 41,000 girls saying it in a chorus, never recognizing the contradiction. It’s taking a form of contempt for women – even a hatred for women – and internalizing it by saying, Yes, those girls are awful, but I’m special, I’m not like that, instead of stepping back and saying, This is a lie.
The real meaning of “I’m not like the other girls” is, I think, “I’m not the media’s image of what girls should be.” Well, very, very few of us are. Pop culture wants to tell us that we’re all shallow, backstabbing, appearance-obsessed shopaholics without a thought in our heads beyond cute boys and cuter handbags. It’s a lie – a flat-out lie – and we need to recognize it and say so instead of accepting that judgment as true for other girls, but not for you.”—
Excellent article. I always end up thinking this when I see reblogs like that. Female competition is a horrible, poisonous thing (that I’ve only recently gotten over engaging in, and I am much happier for it).
“She loved with so much passion as she loved with ignorance. She did not know whether it were good or evil, beneficent or dangerous, necessary or accidental, eternal or transitory, permitted or prohibited: she loved.”—Victor Hugo, Les Miserables (via larmoyante_ (via suavium)