Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.
At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.
shoutouts to those low maintenance best friends. the ones who you don’t speak to for months because both of yall are living life but when you catch up it’s nothing but intense love.
do you ever cry because you’ve somehow managed to gain a truly fucking amazing person as your friend? and just think about how fucking blessed you are for their existence and how in some previous life you must have done something fucking amazing to deserve them in this life? DO YOU?