You'll always be my Konstantine

I want change, I crave it. I get bored so easily. That's why I'm always braced for the run, to try an escape that ever encroaching darkness that promises to hollow me out again. I hate when things remind me of the people who've left me behind. I hate when I still look at them and miss them. But the worst is when I miss people who still willingly call themselves mine.

Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night from the pain of missing a place I've never been. This is where the loneliness strikes.

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Fri Jan 27

microaggressions:

A bouncer/security guard at my favourite bar keeps touching my arm and back as he checks my ID.

He’s a big man, and I’m a petite 24 year old female rape victim. It’s not ‘significant’ enough to report, but reminds me I’m not safe anywhere, with anyone. I will always be regarded as lesser than male and therefore free to touch and be expected to take it as a compliment.

(via aimmyarrowshigh)