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

“ She had stayed a virgin so she wouldn’t be called a tramp or a slut; had married so she wouldn’t be called an old maid; faked orgasms so she wouldn’t be called frigid; had children so she wouldn’t be called barren; had not been a feminist because she didn’t want to be called queer and a man-hater; never nagged or raised her voice so she wouldn’t be called a bitch… She had done all that and yet, still, this stranger had dragged her into the gutter with the names that men call women when they are angry. Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe (via anuraglahiri)

(via newton-pulsifer)