The words we bring to life on paper or from our lips, the timid and nervous confessions, the brittle anger that slips from our tongue, the lines of thanks, the good and the bad and the honest—this is what makes us real. This is what makes us connect to one another. This is what changes our lives.
You can be content with food, water, love, and exercise. Everything else is an unnecessary luxury.
I’m over the passive aggressive posts, the calculated captions, and the pictures of every single insignificant moment or memory, just for it to mean something. Just for it to be validated by someone else. Just for the 495 Instagram followers to tap their screen twice then move on.
I will no longer hide behind a layer of red lipstick, a smile, a shadowed curtain of hair. Today I will not try to be anything other than imperfect, nothing less than a mess of skin and cuts and bruises and tired lines under my eyes.
Because of the unbreakable bonds I now have with both friends and strangers.
I don’t want to give up the things I love, to make sacrifices for the good of another, to lean on a person so fully that my decisions become their decisions. I don’t want to feel like I need someone. Not yet.
Remember: all-inclusive does not include alcohol.
My home is not one place, not rooted to where I was born or the words stamped to my ID. My home is infinite—all the places I’ve wandered, all the lessons I’ve learned, all the people I’ve kissed or loved or laughed with.
I didn’t yet know what those heels could do, what that mirror could say. What a girl gains, gives, grows.
Buying a $0.25 gumball.
Slurping your soup.
Blowing bubbles.