K. Victoria Joan S.
park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me




"I’m not drunk yet, but we haven’t
spoken in months now
and I wanted to tell you that
someone threw a bouquet of roses
in the trash bin on the corner of my
street, and I wanted to cry
because, because
well,
you know exactly why.
And, I guess I’m calling because
only you understand
how that would break my heart."


"Sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air."


"And I am jealous
of your tattoos and how long
they will stay with you
after I go."


"

Stop telling women that we should find ourselves beautiful and that we should love ourselves when you are standing right there, judging us on how our knees look in short skirts and how prominent our boobs are in a sweater and how much makeup we are or are not wearing.

Instead of us working harder on “love your body” and “find your inner beauty”, the rest of the world should be working harder on “stop telling women their bodies are a shameful place to live but that if they’re strong enough, they will learn to embrace that shame.”

This is my body. It’s not “beautiful”. I don’t “love it”. I don’t have to. I don’t have to have any strong feelings about my body. And whatever feelings I do have are not somehow invalid if they’re not glowing reviews.

"