Flawed And Fabulous

sassafrass-almighty:

austrianwhore:

that feeling of satisfaction when you finally finish hanging all of your fish on a clothes line in the middle of an empty field

image

every saturday

Get out of bed.
Get dressed.
Try not to shatter.

You are not delicate no matter how fragile he made you feel.

Your body is yours.
Your body is yours.
Your body is yours.
Your body is yours.
Repeat it until your
heartbeat starts
to sound like it.

It wasn’t your fault.
It wasn’t your fault.
It wasn’t your fault.
It wasn’t your fault.
It wasn’t your fault.

Think it until it becomes
a reflex, until it
sinks in,
remind yourself
until it feels like
you’re not lying to
yourself anymore.

Repeat after me:
My body is not property.
It never was to begin with.

Get “he will not turn me
into a tragedy”
tattooed onto your veins.

Realize you are more,
more than the bad circumstances,
more than the abuse,
more than the sexual assault,
more than the mental illness,
more than the flashbacks,
the anxiety,
the flinching when boys touch you,
more than what has happened to you.

You are not an abandoned building,
you are not a wreck,
you are not a sunken ship.

You are alive.
You are in one piece
despite how broken you might
feel sometimes.

You own you ,
you own your stories,
your pain,
your body,
your mind.

You control you,
no one else does
no matter how hard
they might try.

— 6:38 p.m. (When you can’t cope)

(via angryasianfeminist)

“Having a low opinion of yourself is not ‘modesty.’ It’s self-destruction. Holding your uniqueness in high regard is not ‘egotism.’ It’s a necessary precondition to happiness and success.”
Bobbe Sommer (via feellng)