do you ever have those moments where even if you’re not romantically involved with someone, you see someone else start talking to them and you just kinda wanna hiss and throws things at them because fuck you that’s my person get your own
Today, I read an article about a woman with HIV who was raped. The man that attacked her is now HIV positive. All of the commentary surround this was about how she should have told him she was HIV+ and that women with HIV should have a badge or special underwear so that this doesn’t happen to another man. It is 12:12am and I am already done with the world.
♈ Aries: Hyperactivity, headaches, impulsivity, recklessness, hostility, frustration, confrontation, restlessness, rapid speech, over thinking, displays of vulnerability and need for reassurance, inability to complete minor tasks ♉ Taurus:…
“I’m not beautiful.
I don’t have that poetic sadness inside me; I have
ugly grey demons with vicious
yellow fangs and long, sharp claws that have left infectious wounds on the backs of my eyes.
I have no soft, freckled skin, gently kissed by the sun.
I have crimson scars mapping out my disease and I am the captain of this sinking ship.
You won’t find me casually pacing in empty book store aisles awaiting for someone to take notice.
You will find me silent in my bed on a Friday nite underlining paragraphs that prolong my throat from giving guidance to a dozen slender white pills.
I will not pour my hopeless tangents into your lap and hope for acceptance. I will ignore them so well that even God thinks I’m fine.
And I will laugh at things that are funny and more so at things that are not. I will drag myself out of bed on Monday mornings and go to work and I will go grocery shopping when my cabinets are bare. I will go to the bank and make small talk with the teller. I will sit in traffic and sing along to my favourite songs. I will get drunk and find traces of everyone I once loved in the tequila. I will smile at my boss’ advances and casually wipe them off.
I am not something happiness knows of and sadness is far too lovely anymore to make home in my veins.
I lay somewhere in between, going through the motions and holding the door open for the phantoms of my past.”—(trm)