well one of the aims of 2014 for me is to decrease my presence online. After what happened, I realize how much I invest my life online to the public eye and how much I value my privacy. I haven’t been on this blog for a long time anyhow, but somehow I found my way on here and then realized that tumblr is nothing to me. I’ll leave this blog up if ever I look back on the thoughts and memories I wrote down, but that’s all. in the meantime, I would rather you call me or video chat if you wanna have a conversation—casual or deep (“real talk”). I’m willing to make time for you!! or meet up in person if possible. yeah, that’s the best.
this is a permanent goodbye to tumblr and all its time sucking glory.
I set my heart to do Your will
I’m never looking back, I’m never looking back
I, I take up my cross
I count it all as loss, I love You
Not my will, but Yours be done
I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m am in love
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me