Someone once told me that the saddest four words someone could string together were “I’m used to it,” but because the moment tasted too much like bicycle chains and not enough like laugh tracks, I made some offhand comment and everyone smiled.

I have been thinking about that since the moment it happened and how evolution has shaped the way we exist, how we are only the adaptions that our grandparents fought to handle for us, how my children might carry the same thick skin and frozen heart as the one that I do. I have been thinking about how many things we are used to and how many things we have had to grow used to throughout the ages, I have been thinking about the ways which I have adapted to fit into a jungle I never wanted to run in.

I have been thinking of what I am used to. In the back of a train when a man copped a feel I was as used to the grasp of his fingers as if I had always known the span of his palm. He was as familiar to me as a longterm lover and he whispered words in my ear with a kind of intimacy that I expect at weddings. I am used to it. I am used to every person who will take this body for granted. I am used to the expectation that my art gallery is open for the public or that to see it is to have to touch it.

I am used to it. I am used to how people will look at the scars and then glance quickly away as if they are made uncomfortable by the questions hanging in the air between us. I am used to how their eyes dart anywhere else as if they are expecting me to unzip at their feet if we exchange eye contact. I am used to the invisibility cloak I have painted onto my skin as if razorblades were just steel thread. I’m used to not being asked about it.

I am used to slurs, to being a joke, to requests for threesomes. For a little bit, I admit I even thought that statements like “that’s hot” in regards to my sexuality - I used to take these as compliments rather than blanks in a shotgun: I still flinch even if it doesn’t actually kill me because I know all it takes is for you to reload with the right ammunition. I am used to what I will hear if I try to explain myself to you. I have stopped trying.

I have thought about how we have adapted. I have thought about how girls have invented claws from keys, how sad teens can withstand long sleeves in high heat, how those of us who are different have long ago learned exactly what words to search for in a person’s speech so we know whether or not you’re going to be our friend or our bully. I have thought about how when I enter a new room, my shoulders rise up like skyscrapers as if I am expecting a knife through my jugular. I have thought about how when I am hurting, I never let all of the pain show because I’m afraid of letting other people see me vulnerable. I have thought about how last night all of my friends went to a party without me and even though I was asked after, I still didn’t go because I was terrified of the possibility of what could happen if I did show.

I have thought about our evolution, how I have my grandmother’s shaky hands and my mother’s sad brain and my father’s addiction. I have thought about dna and nature and how we have all shaped ourselves to survive in a hostile environment. I have thought about the kids who cannot conform or those of us who have lost ourselves while trying. I have thought of the things that have killed me.

I don’t know if it makes me sad. I think I’m just used to it, see?

I want to be happy because I survived but somewhere along my emotions all died. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)


I want to be one of those people who does yoga and eats berries for breakfast, but I’m one of those people who stays in bed until 4 pm and eats pizza. 

(via poetic)


when u come home from school and take ur makeup off


(via gnarly)




omfg reblogging till the end of time

(via lovelyenchantedwords)

I just have bad habits I guess

like i chew on my nails no matter how old
i get and i know it makes me look thoughtless
but wait until you see how often
i gnaw on my lips
because i’m basically addicted
maybe i’m just trying to tear off the
last bits of skin
that felt your kiss

and sometimes i take cold showers
or refuse to towel off and even though
i hate not being warm it’s because
my brain gets stuck on some ideas like
burning a few extra calories without
trying very hard
kind of like how it got stuck on the idea
that you might still love me even after
all the pretty wore off

and i have a habit of panicking about times
like i can’t be late to anything or my body becomes
an explosion and my words become
you were the first person i would have rather spent
those five extra minutes with like i would have
shown up late to everything if it meant
just a couple continued moments of us
lying quiet in our bed

and i like reading more than some people and
i will try to pet every dog i come across
and i am just really awful at crossing streets
like for no reason my timing with that is actually
horrifying and i like to touch every water feature
around me even if it’s in some highclass lawyer place
where they frown at you for running your fingers
across their wall fountain and occasionally i spend
like an embarrassing amount of time in my pajamas
and i always procrastinate no matter what i have
for homework and i also have this thing where
i second-guess everything i do

but by far my worst habit
is not being able
to stop loving you.

"He left without a reason or saying goodbye and I can’t breathe." /// (r.i.d)

“So my life is kinda falling apart. And I feel like running away to start over new, away from my parents and life in general.” (r.i.d)

So my life is kinda falling apart. And I feel like running away to start over new, away from my parents and life in general.” (r.i.d)

"I’ve lost the boy I could have loved forever and I feel like it is my fault." (r.i.d)

I feel like no one likes me. No one invites me to do anything and everyone looks at me as if they’re thinking “why are you even around us?” I hate it.” (r.i.d)