For too damn long, I’ve apologized to the men I’ve loved, for not being THAT pretty. For not being THAT skinny. For not being THIS, for not being THAT. I’ve said, “I’m sorry I’m not good enough.” Since the age of thirteen, like I say my name, it’s become the default of the question, “who are you?” I am so tired of beating myself up, tearing myself down. My body is not a goddamn temple, it’s the house I grew up in, and I don’t know why I keep trying to burn it down.
i am literally the only person in my history class who has been turning in work consistently all year and i just got an email from my professor saying that if i’m not feeling up to it i dont have to bother writing the 18 page final paper he assigned i just have to not tell anybody god is real
For a while i thought you meant that you had to not tell people that god was real.
This is why punctuation was created
you can preach about slut-shaming all you want, but you can’t deny there’s something very wrong with 13 and 14-year old girls going out in skirts and dresses so short they barely cover their asses and shirts with necklines so low they show off cleave they haven’t got yet, drinking and even smoking and hooking up with guys before they even have a substantial knowledge of how sex and sexual relationships work.