I've been chasing beauty ever since I was young. But, at various points, I've gotten caught up in standards of beauty that I didn't agree with. Now I'm chasing MY definition of beautiful. I'm chasing bravery. I'm chasing brilliance. I'm chasing creativity. I'm chasing ingenuity. I'm chasing innovation.
Most importantly, I'm chasing my dreams.
Daniell Koepke (via internal-acceptance-movement)
Panic Button Collection
I check my Facebook page 36 times a day for the sole purpose of making sure I have not accidentally posted a nude photo of myself
I reread an email 13 times before pressing send to ensure I have not written something in the email that could convict me of a crime
Before taking a stage when asked if I allow flash photography I always want to say “No” because I’m terrified flash photography will give me epilepsy
I know it doesn’t work like that, still
I never eat nuts on an airplane out of fear of that I will suddenly develop a nut allergy and if I have to asphyxiate I don’t want it to happen at 30,000 feet
Twice in the last two years I’ve been aborted from an airplane for running screaming down the aisles as the plane was taking off
I can’t walk through San Francisco without worrying my indigestion is the beginning of an earthquake
I brace for tsunamis besides lakes in Colorado
I’m not joking
The last time I saw Niagara Falls I couldn’t take it
It was too much much
I had to plug my ears to look at it and close my eyes to listen
Generally I can’t do all my senses at the same time they are too much much
Like if you touch me without warning, whoever you are, it will take everything I have to not hate you
Imagine your hands are electrical sockets and I am constantly aware that I am 99% water
it’s not that I’ve not tried to build a dam
Ask my therapist who pays her mortgage
My cost of living went up at five years old when I told my mother I have to stop going to birthday parties because every time I hear a balloon pop I feel like I’m gonna get murdered in the heart
Last year a balloon popped on the stage where I was performing, I started crying in front of the whole crowd
plugged my ears and kept repeating the word “LOUD LOUD LOUD LOUD” it was super sexy
That’s what I do
I do super sexy
Like when I asked the super cute barista 11 times ‘you sure this is decaffeinated? Are you sure this is decaffeinated? Are you sure that’- yes I drink decaffeinated and still jitter like a bug running from the bright bright bright
I have spent years of my life wearing a tight rubber band hidden beneath my hair so my brain could have a hug
These days when no one’s looking I wear a fuzzy fitted winter hat that buttons tight beneath the chin
I only ever wear a tie so that when I convince myself I’m choking my senses have something they are certain they can blame
As a kid I was so certain I would die the way of meteor falling on my head
I would go whole weeks without looking at the sky ‘cause I didn’t want to witness the coming of my own death
I started tapping the kitchen sink seven times to build a shield
My mother started making lists of everything I thought would kill me in hopes that if I saw my fears they would disappear
Bless her heart but the first time I saw that list I started filling a salad bowl with bleach and soaking my shoe laces overnight so in the morning when I ironed them they would be so bright I would be certain I had control over how much dark could break into my light
how much jack hammer could break into my heart
My spine it has always been a lasso that could never catch my breath
I honestly can’t imagine how it would feel to walk into a room full of people and not feel the roof collapsing on my ‘NO NO NO I am not fine’
Fine is the suckiest word
it never tells the truth
And more than anything I have ever been afraid of I am terrified of lies
How they war the world
How they sound by our tongues
How they bone dry the marrow
How they never out-llow the inside
How did we get through high school without being taught Dr. King spent two decades having panic attacks?
Jumped at thunder
I think we are all part flight the fight
part run for your life
Part ‘please please please like me’
Part Can’t breathe
Part scared to say you’re scared
Part say it anyway
You panic button collector
You clock of beautiful ticks
You run out the door if you need to
You flock to the front row of your own class
You feather everything until you know you can always, always shake like a leaf on my family tree and know you belong here
You belong here and everything you feel is okay
Everything you feel is okay
Andrea Gibson “Panic Button Collector” (via ohandreagibson)
Ten rape prevention tips:
1. Don’t put drugs in women’s drinks.
2. When you see a woman walking by herself, leave her alone.
3. If you pull over to help a woman whose car has broken down, remember not to rape her.
4. If you are in an elevator and a woman gets in, don’t rape her.
5. When you encounter a woman who is asleep, the safest course of action is to not rape her.
6. Never creep into a woman’s home through an unlocked door or window, or spring out at her from between parked cars, or rape her.
7. Remember, people go to the laundry room to do their laundry. Do not attempt to molest someone who is alone in a laundry room.
8. Use the Buddy System! If it is inconvenient for you to stop yourself from raping women, ask a trusted friend to accompany you at all times.
9. Carry a rape whistle. If you find that you are about to rape someone, blow the whistle until someone comes to stop you.
10. Don’t forget: Honesty is the best policy. When asking a woman out on a date, don’t pretend that you are interested in her as a person; tell her straight up that you expect to be raping her later. If you don’t communicate your intentions, the woman may take it as a sign that you do not plan to rape her.
It is a rainy Monday morning. I find myself sitting on the couch, directly across the unlit fireplace and next to the gentle, sleeping dog. That dog never makes much noise, kind of like this day. The rain fades in and out, splashing against the nearby window like a gentle drumbeat, almost too soft to hear. The sound of the piano from inside my not broken half of headphones allows my breathing to slow to the pace of the dog’s moving chest. It’s moments like this - this seemingly endless serenity - that make me think for a minute that I don’t need you. Even with the climax of this angry song, my angst only bubbles up softly, retreating into the closet of skeletons I’ve pushed it to. It’s raining much harder now, reminding me of that day in St. Louis. It was pouring and I smiled at you, both of us worried of our hair becoming wet and being ruined. So you laughed and shared your umbrella with me. You made me feel wanted. The memories move in snapshots - jumping into your arms in joy, the reassuring hug where you held my shoulder blades so gently I swore you could melt into my skin, the way your eyes lit up when we all came up with something clever. That gray-blue is a permanent fixture in my memory, haunting every word that leaves my tongue. Because I know these words that I force from my throat aren’t real. They’re not any more than a way to hide the hurt in my eyes, a way to keep the sting of tears from my ice cold face. I can only move further away from what I call beautiful, because the physical you is surrounded now by the ugly words you used to defend yourself. We stopped fighting fair and you sent a low blow to my heart, hitting the nerve that loved you the most. My trust was an honorable soldier, but he was blown to bits during the final fight. Now I sit here and feel cold, and tired and unwilling.
I will keep counting up the minutes where I feel like maybe, just maybe, I don’t need you. But the rain is coming down hard now, and it’s not so serene anymore. It just feels broken.