"My love of music is changing and progressing. The question is why am I bound to making the same kind of music if you’re not bound to listening to the same kind of music?"
John Mayer (via johnfuckinmayer)

You are 12. You’re at the library looking for some generic young adult fiction novel about a girl who falls for her best friend. Your dad makes a disgusted face. “This is about lesbians,” he says. The word falls out of his mouth as though it pains him. You check out a different book and cry when you get home, but you aren’t sure why. You learn that this is not a story about you, and if it is, you are disgusting.

You are 15. Your relatives are fawning over your cousin’s new boyfriend. “When will you have a boyfriend?” they ask. You shrug. “Maybe she’s one of those lesbians,” your grandpa says. You don’t say anything. You learn that to find love and acceptance from your family, you need a boyfriend who thinks you are worthy of love and acceptance.

You are 18. Your first boyfriend demands to know why you never want to have sex with him. He tells you that sex is normal and healthy. You learn that something is wrong with you.

You are 13. You’re at a pool party with a relative’s friend’s daughter. “There’s this lesbian in my gym class. It’s so gross,” she says. “Ugh, that’s disgusting,” another girl adds. They ask you, “do you have any lesbians at your school?” You tell them no and they say you are lucky. You learn to stay away from other girls.

You are 20. You have coffee with a girl and you can’t stop thinking about her for days afterwards. You learn the difference between a new friendship and new feelings for a person.

You are 13. Your mom is watching a movie. You see two girls kiss on screen. You feel butterflies and this sense that you identify with the girls on the screen. Your mom gets up and covers the screen. You learn that if you are like those girls, no one wants to see it.

You are 20. You and your friends are drunk and your ex-boyfriend dares you to make out with your friend. You both agree. You touch her face. It feels soft and warm. Her lips are small and her hands feel soft on your back. You learn the difference between being attracted to someone and recognizing that someone you care about is attractive.

You are 16. You find lesbian porn online. Their eyes look dead and their bodies are positioned in a way that you had never imagined. You learn that liking girls is acceptable if straight men can decide the terms.

You are 20. You are lying next to a beautiful girl and talking about everything. You tell her things that you don’t usually tell anyone. You learn how it feels not to want to go to sleep because you don’t want to miss out on any time with someone.

You are 18. You are in intro to women’s and gender studies. “Not all feminists are lesbians- I love my husband! Most of the feminists on our leadership team are straight! It’s just a stereotype,” the professor exclaims. You learn that lesbianism is something to separate yourself from.

You are 15. Your parents are talking about a celebrity. Your dad has a grin on his face and says, “her girlfriend says that she’s having the best sex of her life with her!” You learn that being a lesbian is about the kind of sex you have and not how you love.

You are 21 and you are kissing a beautiful girl and she’s your girlfriend and you understand why people write songs and make movies and stupid facebook statuses about this and time around you just seems to stop and you could spend forever like this and you learn that there is nothing wrong with you and you are falling in love.

You are 21. And you are okay.

a thing I wrote after arguing with an insensitive dude on facebook all day or Things Other People Taught me about Liking Girls (via radandangry)
"Here is the truth: It is hard to be in love 
with someone who is in love someone else. 
I don’t know how to turn that into poetry."
"And sometimes I lay awake at night – your arms wrapped around me, your lips pressed up against my back and I can’t help but think – god damn, I am lucky."
"Falling in love is not the only adventure worthy of a young woman."
Caitlin Stasey (via bbrian4)
"your back, that perfect curve,
that delicate hill that holds an entire city
in its gentle slope,
this is what I remember when you are gone.
however far you said you were,
I stopped listening after the first hundred miles.
you turned into an echo that
made it hard to sleep at night.
your hands, those flower stems gently
sleeping underneath a thin blanket of skin,
the petals at the tip of your fingers that opened
like little suns and burned my cheeks with softness,
this is what I remember when you are not here.
when the connection speed is low and I can’t
pretend to be close to you.
we can make it work.
we can make it work.

I fall asleep with this phrase
punching the roof of my mouth.
we can make it work.
we are stronger than this.

I wake up choking.
some days I can’t feel your ghost
and I go to every place we’ve ever been
just to conjure you.
then, when I find you, transparent
and beautiful, and there,
I am at peace. I walk home blooming.
your mouth.
your soft lips.
the way they moved me like
a hurricane.
this is what I remember when the night closes
and you are still not here.
we can make it work.
we can make it work.
it will be hard but we can make it work.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
is that enough?
long distance | Caitlyn S. (via alonesomes)
"Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you?"
Alain de Botton, Essays in Love (via wordsnquotes)
"I give a fuck. I give lots of fucks, actually. I’m a prostitute of feelings."
(via ileu)