"Books are no more threatened by Kindle than stairs by elevators." Stephen Fry
they call me simple because I am happy
and maybe I am, but
I’d rather be simple and happy
than knowledgable and hopeless
He who makes a home in sheets
until the deed is done, but can’t be
bothered to share the sunrise.
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)
"Maybe happiness is this: not feeling like you should be elsewhere, doing something else, being someone else." - Isaac Asimov (via wordsthat-speak)
"I learned that people can easily forget that others are human." - "Prisoner" from the Stanford Prison Experiment (1971)
you’re going to fall in love with a girl
with hair a little longer than mine, another writer-type with all sorts of ideas about things but perhaps a little less aggressive about them, you’re going to kiss her in the ways i taught you and you’re going to figure out some new ways too and when the two of you have sex, she will be just a little bit better at it than i ever have been
you’re going to fall in love with a girl that smells good enough you bury your face in the curve of her neck and her tummy will never growl like
mine always did. she’ll be deep and mysterious but she won’t come with the heavy past sitting on her shoulders. she won’t ever keep you awake with worry. she’ll always text you back
and never bite too hard and never act in a way she can’t explain later. she will not cry when she gets drunk, she’ll just fall asleep beside you.
you’ll fight with her sometimes because all couples fight but it won’t be with the teeth and claws that we had, it will be almost gentle, it will be over before it really gets going
you’re going to love her until you’re no longer really sure if what we had was all that special. you’ll start badmouthing me to all your friends. you’ll forget about me in most moments and eventually you won’t even be able to tell someone what our first date was or our first kiss or even if you fucked me
the last time that we spoke. i’ll just be gone to you, just a memory of a memory, a girl with dark eyes, a half-capable poet, some word on your tongue you’re no longer sure of but you remember that you used to know it.
i will no longer be important." - “I’m still holding out hope that somehow someway we’ll end up together in the end…” /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
"Our souls are not hungry for fame, comfort, wealth, or power. Those rewards create almost as many problems as they solve. Our souls are hungry for meaning, for the sense that we have figured out how to live so that our lives matter so the world will be at least be a little bit different for our having passed through it." - Rabbi Harold Kushner (via gettingahealthybody)
and I still remember the way
my lips found your eye so effortlessly
a little joke that separated
our world from theirs.
and I still remember the songs
you would repeat over and over
that i hated but knew you loved
so much that I fell in love too.
and I still think about the time
you and I met at that bus stop
when I got your name wrong
and you seized that opportunity.
and I still wonder what would be
if I never left home
if I never left you
if I kept our song playing.
they say shit like “oh just go out and buy a plane ticket to
anywhere, go live life instead of worrying about him”
but who actually has the time or the cash for that
so instead i’ve opened the college-girl manual on
how to scrub a boy out from every strand of hair
he ran his fingers through, instead i’ve started figuring out
the little things to make him wash out like
dip-dying your hair with the leftover bleach
from your sister’s kit or maybe using red kool-aid for it
so when you stand in the shower you watch thin blood-colored streams
run down your curves or maybe you learn to give your phone
to a more responsible adult when you go out to get drunk
because you kind of turn into a needy little shit (you’re
starting to worry your friends are a million times done with it)
and you start learning how to force yourself into having fun
in little thing like spooning chocolate icing out of
the container even though it’s probably definitely not healthy
but it’s better than going crazy trying to get thin again for him,
you learn not to let yourself get too introverted on rainy days because
that shit is a slippery slope right down into spending four hours
on his facebook page,
you learn to take long walks when you need to think
because that way at least you get some exercise since let’s be real
you really just want to curl up in bed and stare at a wall until
the earth crumbles around your ears, you learn to dress
hot as hell just for yourself
because you’re bammin-slammin-bootylicious,
you learn to be cool with leggings as pants despite the fact
when you were fourteen and trying too hard to be ‘alternative’ you
totally used to rage about how they’re not actually,
you learn and you grow up and you cry about it some and then you
cry about it until it feels like you’re gonna drown and then you have
a couple of days of just absolute blankness where you
kind of don’t know if you’re okay and then you have a couple of days
of being a fucking rainbow like hell yeah and then maybe you see
two people kissing and you start crying all over again and it’s okay
because you learn to stretch out in the sun and to pet every animal
you come across even if it’s something you’re kind of scared of
and you learn and you learn and you learn and you kind of end up
becoming a whole different person and this will fuck with your head
for a little whenever you see him
because part of you will want to tell him
“i’m someone completely new now, i’ve buffed out some of my
flaws and i’m pretty fucking proud” but at the same time you
don’t want to go back to where you were so you’re in this weird “do
i actually talk to him” limbo - you learn that you still feel an odd kind
of queasy when you think about him and you really wanna puke when
you see him with her but you learn to take a deep breath
and not let it ruin your night and
to make out with random guys if you’re into that and
you learn to do your homework on time and you
learn the people you can study with so you can copy from them and
you relearn how to make friends
and you learn that you’re not the only one feeling broken and
you learn to be fine without him because eventually
some part of you remembers that you’ve had a whole life without him
and you were doing pretty good beforehand and
right now you might cry all day but you’re getting better and
you’re gonna be