Why would you…… rip my strands right from my scalp like this
FINALLY a wording for this I’ve been trying to find that doesn’t turn into victim-blaming
Tracking Time // Citizen
me holding my cat like a baby: little babey,,,,,, fat babey,,,,,, actual babey,,,,
my cat:
“I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am.”
— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
(via books-n-quotes)
“It’ll be weird seeing her again. It’ll be like revisiting a memory that you thought you’d forgotten. Her hair will be longer, or shorter, her hair will have changed; hair always does. Her eyes will be the same. Hearing her voice will be like going back to the place you used to live and noticing the new curtains. Being close to her will be strange. She’ll say something like, “you look well,” and you’ll reply with a, “thanks, you too.” And it’ll feel like death, like an iron fist around your heart. And then she’ll point to your shirt and say, “is that new?” and you won’t have the heart to say you bought it seven months ago after she left, so instead you say, “I haven’t worn it around you before.” When she emits a small laugh you’ll feel the tiniest ounce of pride. She still finds you funny. When she’s telling you about her new life you’ll find your mind wandering into places you didn’t think mattered anymore. Places like, was she in love now and was she being treated well? Places like, did she ever miss you, and in and amongst all of her living did she ever consider coming back?”
— Sue Zhao
