it was again the evening that drew me
back to the field where I could sense no boundary—
the smell of dry earth, cool arch of my neck, the darkness
entirely within myself.
Perhaps it was time to be single anyway, and this all came at the right moment. You bought me Macbeth tickets for October, so we’ll see each other again. Now… how to go about re-entering the murky otherworld that is the dating scene. Christ, I’ve forgotten how to sleep with someone and afterwards not jokingly tickle their nose hairs to make them sneeze. I’d imagine most people don’t find that funny.
My boobs have shrunk by approximately three cup sizes since coming off the pill. This makes me want to kill myself.
I am EXHAUSTED by rape culture. I tried telling my little sister off about using the word ‘frape’ and got rebuked by her and a gaggle of her friends, who called it a joke. I tried to explain to her that statistically, every fourth girl she knows has been raped/sexually assaulted. And you know what? When even my flesh and blood thinks it’s not an issue, it makes me lose faith and want to give up bothering to care. Which is what rape culture wants. But no, I won’t give it the satisfaction.
Boyfriend just called me ‘moon of my life’ yep that’s it call off the search, i’ve definitely got the right one bahaha *googles wedding dresses*
was meant to be going to the pub tonight. instead i have spent my evening listening to gregorian plainchant whilst dressing up in my new clothes trying to work out how much exposed stomach i can get away with as day-wear.
Only if I move my arm a certain way,
it comes back.
Or the way the light bends in the trees
this time of year,
so a scrap of sorrow, like a bird, lights on the heart.
I carry this in my body, seed
in an unswept corner, husk-encowled and seeming safe.
But they guard me, these small pains,
from growing sure
of myself and perhaps forgetting.
i can’t seem to make anything come out of my brain like i used to