Talk is of the essence yes
You whisper how you want to do
There is no look to tell you
That language will do nothing for us
That the act of loving can be crude
With or without silence
Make lying little easy
And as we lie back to back and bedded
Thumbing phrases, blowing kisses
To the lips I ask : is this linguistic love?
Are only touching with our tongues?

the nice thing about the people in my life is that they’re really fucking predictable.
the good guys are bad guys

the bad guys are bad guys.


things I like about myself

I was taught never to brag. But there is such an avoidance of self-ownership for women in my culture. I do like things about myself.

I speak three languages fluently. Two others poorly.

I know an extraordinary amount of art history.

I have good taste, relatively. 

I can dress myself fashionably and in accordance to what looks good on my body.

I don’t like everybody. Which I like.

I finally learned to wear lipstick within the lines.

I’m an okay photographer.

I like being Jewish. And I like that I loved my Grandmother and still do, even though she’s gone. (Which is the Jewish way of saying deceased.) 

I like that I don’t freak out in new situations. That I can direct and take control of a group.

I like that my parents sent me to Montessori school, where I learned some weird foundational techniques. 

I’m a good runner. My body can be athletic when I ask it to be.

There are more. But I’m done.

I really fucking hate my face and more complaints

Why is it that every fucking time someone takes a picture of my face I end up looking like an old hag in drag? I have the manliest features. On top of this, no tits, a fat ass, and hair everywhere. Not blessed. Fat arms, unreasonably big feet, short hair, weak nails. To be frank, I am fucking hemmorhaging more blood out of my vagina right now than I have ever in my entire menstrual past and my iron deficiency is now what I would call life threatening, seeing as I don’t have enough energy to stand up.
I hate myself. But there are so many things to worry about I can’t even begin to tackle any of this.
Right now I feel anxious and unloved and I woke up in my boyfriend’s arms crying because I feel so incompetent all the time.