Illegitimi Non Carborundum!
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I reblog what I love.
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Life is unfair. You put someone first who puts you second. You study your ass off for a final only to get a C. You give 110% to someone in a relationship who only gives 40%. You’re there for a best friend at 3:00am and the next day they don’t pick up their phone. It seems like you’re giving everyone everything and they’re just walking away with it.


(Source: shehlovee)

He may still love you. He probably does. He probably still thinks about you, and all the memories you guys had. About the love you guys felt for each other. About the constant little texts you used to send him, and about all the times you made him happy. He’s probably thinking about you right now, or listening to songs that bring up the thought of you. Or just hesitating to send you a message saying he misses you. But maybe this is just what you want to believe. Instead of thinking he has found someone who he has started to like; you want to believe that he still misses you, and is dealing with the same pain you are. But in reality, he is just as heart broken as you..

Look around your college classroom, spot the virgins.

See, this seems like a game until you skip over the girl with a short skirt and hair in front of her eyes because you heard last summer that she slept with like nineteen guys. You can’t see her hands, but they’re under the table, pulling a rosary through her fingers as she tries to wash the sin off her. She’s only ever kissed three people in her whole life and they’re all girls. She turned down the wrong guy and he told everyone she’s “a whore.” The label “slut” stuck to the bottom of her shoe and swallowed her up.

But that quiet girl who is always reading probably never touched someone else’s penis, you figure, because you don’t know that she goes home and strips down and pulls on tight black leather, you don’t know she’s got a set of whips that could make any set of knees quiver, you don’t know because she’s proud of what she does but she’s not stupid enough to let anyone know about it. She’s sexy, just not here, not where people judge.

See, the truth is: you have no idea who has lost their virginity, because it doesn’t change you. It doesn’t give you some kind of glow or superpower or stamp on your forehead. You know the feeling of waking up on your birthday and thinking “I don’t feel any older whatsoever”? That’s what maybe they’re all so afraid of you finding out: sex doesn’t change you. Sex doesn’t make you an animal, sex doesn’t suddenly make your relationship a million times more stable or intimate or romantic - it can’t fix what’s broken, although it can make the pain go away for a bit. Sex doesn’t really occur with eighty tea lights and a thick white rug. Sex is ugly and loud and frequently awkward, sex is excellent and breathtaking and when you wake up the next morning, you’re the exact same person. There’s not some magical connection with the person in bed beside you. Believe it or not, pregnancy isn’t some kind of punishment - but practice safe sex, get tested, don’t spread your germs around. They want to tell you, “Sex can ruin you” and I’ve heard that a lot as a little girl, that some boy would join me under my sheets and then dump me four days after, used, unhappy.

But I figured out that I’m not a fucking toy. Letting someone have sex with me is not letting them “use” me, because I’m not an object. My father said the issue lay in the fact “Men are insecure and need to know that they’re the best you ever had,” but I think that’s a steaming crock of absolute-wrong and if I didn’t tell the people I’m with how many others I’d slept beside, there would be literally no way for them to know my number, because I don’t rust, I don’t wear out, I don’t get bruised. I’m not a wilting fruit, I don’t go rotten.

But here’s the thing: some people connect sex and emotion. I don’t personally because I am probably secretly an ice storm in disguise, but I still respect my partner’s desires. If they’re the type to want love and sex to coincide, I let them. I don’t make fun, I don’t pull one-night-stands or friends-with-benefits, because it’s not their “reputation” I’m afraid for: it’s their heart I’m defending.

Here’s the thing: Instead of worrying about people’s “purity” and how it defines them as a person, worry instead about how you can protect other people’s emotions.

Because here’s the thing: look around your room and spot the virgins. Look harder. You can’t tell. Sex doesn’t alter people, it doesn’t make them act in a certain way nor dress in a certain manner. Sex and personality have nothing to do with each other. There’s a reason that virginity doesn’t show on someone’s face: because having sex doesn’t cause you to change.

"I lost my virginity to a boy I didn’t even love…" /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
Isn’t it automatic that when you let someone love you, you are also letting that someone hurt you. When you let him read every untouched pages of your story, you are also giving him the power to tear them into pieces. When you gave him the key to where your secrets are, you are also giving him the power to take them all out in the world. It is like he was holding the hem of the shirt you are wearing and he only had to yank them off and the world will see your bare body but then you trust him enough that he won’t do it. When you let him send you to the highest stars, you are also letting him drown you to the bottom of the ocean. When you let him give you all the sweetness that this life could offer, you should also know that he could give you the bitterness of it. If he sent spring throughout your entire year, making every part of you bloom with delight, he could also make it snow every month, making your whole body dull and cold without his touch. When he could fill your heart with too much love, he could also fill it with too much sadness effortlessly. But then you are trusting that someone enough that they won’t do anything to give you pain. That is love— giving someone the power to destroy you yet holding on to the hope that they wouldn’t.
n.a., the unspoken condition of love (via escafeism)
Fight for somebody, but never compete. Care for somebody, but never allow yourself to be taken for granted. Cry for somebody, but never for the same reason twice. Love somebody, but never stop loving yourself because of it.
It’s a marvelous thing, the ocean. For some reason when two people sit together looking out at it, they stop caring whether they talk or stay silent. You never get tired of watching it. And no matter how rough the waves get, you’re never bothered by the noise the water makes by the commotion of the surface - it never seems too loud, or too wild.
Banana Yoshimoto, Goodbye Tsugumi (via baristanary)
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