having social anxiety is like waking up and battling a bear every morning and then having people tell you it’s not that big a deal because they had to deal with a chihuahua humping their leg once
between being loved and being fucked
is I can’t remember how the first feels.
I come to bed quiet, kiss with my eyes closed,
hate how easily I touch you.
Find me the sweetest boy, with a heart
more hopeful than spun sugar on a hot day,
I will teach him the meaning of meaningless
nights. The whole time, every moment, wishing
he’d crack me open, rib by rib, to see
how I work. How I bleed.
— Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
So you plant your own garden and
decorate your own soul, instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.
— Jorge Luis Borges (via Swanfeather Songs)