“O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you;
As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.”
– Walt Whitman
stockings
Lately, I’ve been having nightmares about being discovered. They feel incredibly real. I wake up feeling unsettled and anxious. This doesn’t bode well.
SG has a go-to phrase for when I’m stressed out.
“Would you please calm down? Everything’s going to be fine. We’re the beautiful people.”
I’m not entirely sure how that solves anything, but it’s certainly nice to remember.
I’m thinking of opening a chapter of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. And we’d have to all show up like this. Uh huh.
It’s always a little sad when I realize the sundresses won’t be coming back out again for a while.
There are those things I have to keep locked away in the back of my mind because I worry what will happen when they come out. I worry about how I will react, what I’ll turn into, if I’ll like it. Sometimes I just don’t want to know.
This is one of those things.
(via tittyglitter, purecream)
It would be lying to say I haven’t had a fantasy along these lines.
And templeofbablon strikes again.
On my cunt.
Like a gosh darn electric storm.
So you want a fight? That’s fine – just remember this: I’m bigger than you, I’m stronger than you, I’ve been doing this for longer than you, and I’m definitely more vicious than you. I don’t play fair, I know exactly what you’re scared of, and I certainly don’t think it’s wrong to punch girls.
Shall we begin, little girl? I think it’s time to begin.
“She understood that her heart operated on its own instructions, that she had no control over it or, indeed, anything else.” – Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex.