If you’ve cut a negative person from your life, whether they were abusive or just someone who wasn’t a positive influence on you, at NO POINT in your healing are you required to let that person BACK into your life.
Your healing should never be contingent on you bringing people who have harmed you back into your space. Your healing does not require you to give these people a second chance to harm you.
1. If you don’t like the way he kisses you, you won’t like the way he fucks you. Get up and leave.
2. If he won’t go down on you, but expects you to go down on him, laugh. Get up and leave.
3. If you don’t want to do something and he doesn’t respect that, slap him round the face. Get up and leave.
4. If he isn’t okay with the imperfections on your skin, if he says they turn him off, get up and leave.
5. If you don’t want to shave your legs and he thinks that’s disgusting and refuses to touch them, get up and leave.
6. If he doesn’t see your body as a masterpiece, as a complete work of art, get up and leave.
7. If he makes you feel uncomfortable about any part of your body, get up and leave.
and we laugh and laugh and
all I know is
at this moment I feel like
I can do anything I want
and be anyone I want
and go anywhere on the globe
and still call it home
You made flowers grow in my lungs and although they are beautiful, I can’t fucking breathe.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.