I want to tell you how much I care about you. You already know. And we both know you don’t feel the same.
That’s the shittiest place my love life can be in, right? Again, right?>>
We’re all born with scars. From the moment we open our eyes and look at the world we are wounded, and we all share that same mark.
if anyone wants me to explain what an ‘anticlimax’ is, i’ll show them this text post
Thich Nhat Hanh (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
Someone noticed the scars on my wrist today and it makes me think about all the people that have seen them and didn’t know how to ask or if they should ask or just wondered why I did that to myself but were too afraid to ask or felt like that wasn’t appropriate. It make me think of just how visible my scars are, so clearly man-made. I can’t lie and say I fell down or that I had a cooking accident. Two straight lines across my wrist, done in a moment of panic and despair, only hoping to stop it all to become as numb as I possibly could. And here I am now, three years later with just scars on my wrist and the hope that maybe someone WILL ask me about them because then I can tell them “I got through it all” and maybe then they’ll feel like they can to.>>
the most important thing to me ever is bi kids knowing that it’s ok to be 10% attracted to women and 90% attracted to men or 10% attracted to men and 90% attracted to women and still feeling ok to identify as bi, and still feeling like their identity is valid, and still feeling like they can lead fulfilling lives with both (or other) genders. like that’s just so fricking important.