“Everything around me is evaporating. My whole life, my memories, my imagination and its contents, my personality—it’s all evaporating. I continuously feel that I was someone else, that I felt something else, that I thought something else. What I’m attending here is a show with another set. And the show I’m attending is myself.”—Fernando Pessoa (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)
you abandoned your inner child, because at some early point in life you believed you didn’t have what it took to raise, protect or provide for it. Society then functioning as a means of foster care, you did it because you thought you had to, because you thought it was best. But you are an adult…
“Chances are the world doesn’t give a fuck about your plan. Chances are the world is gonna serve you up lovely irregardless of your plan….I’m trying to figure out how can I gain enough compassion to like, forgive myself for all the anger I have at failing, forgive myself for all the times I didn’t have the courage to do whatever I felt my standards were…y’know because we’re all human. We’re not perfect. We are going to disappoint. We have been taught that by being intolerant of yourself…that this is somehow going to get more out of you…There’s nothing more heartbreaking than watching someone still try to lay the whip on themselves when there’s no bare piece of flesh that isn’t scarred….And so for me what I’ve discovered is now that my back looks like Passion of the Christ is that, like, I’ve discovered that for me, my thing is just forgiving myself. Because I’m not gonna live up to whatever it is. I will falter and I will die, like all of us, and the courage that is required is not to be awesome. The courage that is required is how to be human.”— Junot Diaz (via thenegrotude)
There’s so much hurt and terribleness and weirdness that happens to everyone in their lives and the more time that goes by and the more pain that accumulates all makes it so hard to interact with/have any sort of healthy connection with another person and I think about all of the people I have…
“"Developing an ego is like building a castle against reality. It provides some defense and sense of purpose, but the larger it is, the more it invites attack, and, ultimately, it must crumble. There is a further problem. All fortresses are also prisons. Because our beliefs imply a rejection of their opposites they severely restrict our freedom".”—
PSYCHONAUT (The Demon Choronzon) - Peter J. Carroll (via elektrik667)
“…Am I happy or unhappy? It’s not a very important question. I live with such frenzied intensity.
Things and people are waiting for me, and doubtless I am waiting for them and desiring them with all my strength and sadness. But, here, I earn the right to be alive by silence and secrecy.
The miracle of not having to talk about oneself.”—Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942 (via hellanne)
Baldwin & Lorde on the American Dream in Essence (1984)
James Baldwin:Du Bois believed in the American dream. So did Martin. So did Malcolm. So do I. So do you. That's why we're sitting here.
Audre Lorde:I don't, honey. I'm sorry, I just can't let that go past. Deep, deep, deep down I know that dream was never mine. And I wept and I cried and I fought and I stormed, but I just knew it. I was Black. I was female. And I was out—out—by any construct wherever the power lay. So if I had to claw myself insane, if I lived I was going to have to do it alone. Nobody was dreaming about me. Nobody was even studying me except as something to wipe out.
Baldwin, James, and Audre Lorde. "A Conversation Between James Baldwin and Audre Lorde." Essence Dec. 1984. Print. 72-73.
“"For instance, women of color wondered out loud for whom writing ‘SLUT” across their stomachs operated as reclamations of sexual agency against feminine passivity, where racisms had already inscribed such terms onto some bodies, and poor or criminal-class women argued that feminists ‘slumming’ in the sex industry (through stripping, for the most part) as a confrontational act implied that other women in this or other tiers of the industry were otherwise conceding to patriarchy."”—Mimi Thi Nguyen, Riot Grrrl, Race and Revival (via kawahineaihonua)
You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.
The main problem I have with Men’s Rights Activists is that their name really doesn’t do them justice. They’re Straight Cis White Men’s Rights Activists. I have NEVER seen Men’s Rights Activists campaign for the inclusion of trans* men in their spaces.
I have NEVER seen Men’s Rights Activists campaign to end the social stigma around black fatherhood. I have NEVER seen Men’s Rights Activists campaign for better pay and equal career mobility for men of colour. I have NEVER seen Men’s Rights Activists actively campaign for more gay men’s rights. I have NEVER seen Men’s Rights Activists advise others in their group on how using faggot to emasculate men who aren’t part of their cause is alienating and marginalising other MEN.
I have NEVER seen Men’s Rights Activists campaign, raise awareness of, or support victims of male rape unless it’s in order to derail a discussion around female victims of rape. I have NEVER seen Men’s Rights Activists campaign, raise awareness of, or support male victims of domestic abuse unless it’s in order to derail a discussion around female victims of domestic abuse.Men’s Rights Activists are hypocrites and frauds.
They’re bitter privileged white men who don’t want to campaign for the rights of men - they want to campaign to keep their privilege unchecked and their ability to discriminate against others.If you want to be a real Men’s Rights Activist - be a fucking Feminist. Peace out.
“My heart didn’t break into a thousand pieces after he left. Instead, I realized all the things he didn’t do. He didn’t want to hear my stories. He didn’t ask me questions. He didn’t smile when I was talking to him. He didn’t hug me out of the blue to make me feel good. His hugs were always a preamble to something else, and after he was gone, I wondered if he ever knew me at all.”—(via stfumadison)