gabi
@honeywords
gabi
The truth was, Greta only felt “normal” for one week out of every month. The week before her period: rage, lust, and what felt like clarity. The week of: cramping, fatigue, self-pity. The week after: mind-numbing depression. That left one week of feeling “okay” and “like herself,” but sometimes she wondered if it was the only week in which she
... See moreJen Beagin • Big Swiss
I couldn’t wait to be inducted into the ranks of this female frustration—the period as albatross, lunar burden, exit ticket from Eden, keys to the authenticity kingdom. Bleeding among the sharks meant being eligible for men, which meant being eligible for hope, loss, degradation, objectification, desire, and being desired—a whole world of ways to
... See moreLeslie Jamison • Grand Unified Theory of Female Pain
Growing with our bodies, all of us find ourselves at one time violated or wounded by this world in difficult ways, and still we live and breathe in this touchable, sensual world, and through trauma, through grief, through recovery, we heal in order to be touched again in the right way, as the physical consecration of a mutual, trusted invitation.
David Whyte • Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words
the knives in the kitchen are singing / for blood, but we are the crossroads, my little outlaw / and this is the map of my heart, the landscape / after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is / a tenderness, which is a room, a lover saying Hold me / tight, it’s getting cold.
—Snow and Dirty Rain, Richard Siken
“An artist has got to be careful never really to arrive at a place where he thinks he’s AT somewhere. You always have to realize that you’re constantly in a state of becoming. And, as long as you can stay in that realm you’ll sort of be alright.”
— Bob Dylan
He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
— Wuthering Heights.
The fatal mirage of the ideal of romantic love—transcendence, in the superior male who is perceived as free
— Simone de Beauvoir