i'm gonna let them stay

my blood pounds like a bird in a cage might sing
it's beautiful but not quite free
almost
but not quite

do you hurt me or do i let you hurt me (yes)

how old was i when i learned how to ride a bike (too old)

what's the point of waking up every morning when my caged bird blood sings with the hopelessness of a child who has already learned that their parents are human

baby girl you know we're gonna be legends

"This is my body, and I can make it do things. I can make it spin, flip, fly."

I just finished a book called Dare Me. It's about American cheerleading, kind of, about the darkness in the so-called All-American Girl, about the sinister undertones of how terrifying it is to be a teenage girl. These girls grow up too fast, they're cynical and detached, and they are hard as nails and too good for the world around them.

I hated myself for so long, hated being a girl, that it's hard not to put girls who are aware of their own worth on a pedestal now. These girls are like that. Even at their most evil, I want to worship them in the way they worship themselves, all glitter and sequins and spray-on tans. In my head I can wipe away the violence and eating disorders and cruelty because oh, God, are they beautiful.

Then I remember that they are just children, and I'm horrified to realize that I know girls just like this, girls who are much older than they should be, using sex as a weapon because they know sex is what makes the world go around.

They would be lovely (they are lovely) but they are heartbreakingly sad.

"If it hadn't been what it was, it would've been beautiful."

a song for midwestern nights

i’m from softball fields, dusty and dry, kicking around some old man’s empty budweiser can when i’m barely as tall as my dog

i’m from cold water and pine trees, cut up feet on the rocks near lake superior

i’m from car rides with a boy who doesn’t love me but says he does. i’m from weak enough to believe him

i’m from falling in love with my best friend and not realizing it until she moves in with the boyfriend who has never held her hair when she’s sick, never picked her up at midnight when her parents made her feel unloveable

i’m from glitter pens and sneakers, joysticks and stickers

you caught me off guard

this is a list of some of the food i love to eat

macaroni and cheese
spaghetti
danish meatball things (frikadeller they don't translate)
pretzels
hearts (lol)
lasagna
fettucine alfredo
tomatoes
tacos
carbonara
steak
mashed potatoes
scalloped potatoes
baked potatoes
french fries

i eat too much pasta and like, wow, potatoes

two drowned girls

I fell in love on the water
serene blues and rippling waves and
a water strider skating by like I always thought I’d do someday

I fell in love on the water
under sun and sky and
with the wind by my side

I fell in love on the water
and I’m not here anymore
but

I fell in love on the water
and on the water our love will stay

another high, another low

this is a list of some of my favorite words in danish

forgaars (the day before yesterday)
laekker (delicious, attractive)
hils (give my regards, say hello to)
at blive (to become)
skuespiller (actor/actress)
hygge (a feeling of comforting coziness - more or less untranslatable)
uhyggeligt (a modification of hygge - expressing disgust or contempt)

you'll become one freaky creature

I have a scar on my leg from a time someone hurt me. Most of the time I can wish him away, forget it all ever happened, but then I see the small damned  scratch that will never heal, right where my knee hits my calf.

I can't repress that scar, but god do I try. It feels okay to hurt sometime, but only when it's on my terms, when it's catharsis and not trauma.

He hurt me and the scar doesn't hurt but what that scar means still does and I don't know if it will ever not hurt.