if you want a nice body, go get it. if you want to become a lawyer, study your ass off. if you want nice hair, pick a style and get it done. stop being afraid and motivate yourself. find yourself. find your happiness, because it’s out there waiting for you.
please please please, and i can’t stress this enough, if you’re feeling depressed or like there is no one to talk to, message me. i won’t be annoyed. i won’t judge you. i know words alone can’t stop the world from falling onto your shoulders, but they can help you avoid it. if you look past the blur of the tears, the world is filled with people waiting waiting to listen, i promise. just please. you don’t have to feel so alone.
“You must be ready to accept the possibility that there is a limitless range of awareness for which we now have no words; that awareness can expand beyond range of your ego, your self, your familiar identity, beyond everything you have learned, beyond your notions of space and time, beyond the differences which usually separate people from each other and from the world around them.”—The Tibetan Book of The Dead
“Peter’s not coming, darling.
You can latch the window and take the white ribbons from your hair,
stop sleeping with socks on and packing going-away bags.
Whispering the names of the lost boys will not hasten them to you.
Clapping your hands is no enchantment.
There is magic, though, in lining your eyes,
and spells to be cast in sharpening your tongue.
Come to me, darling, and I’ll show you how queens carry themselves.
I will teach you how to wrangle womanhood and tame it into a lapdog,
to recognize pirates without their hooks and rapier them with words,
to say no to heartless boys who need mothering
and make peace with stern princesses and jealous faeries.
I will help hide away childhood in the gilded cage of your ribs,
where it may blossom and thrive in the wildest part of you.
Here you will never grow old, never die.
Here is your Neverland, laced through your heart like corset strings,
tied up tight into a ribbon no span of years can unravel.”—To Growing Girls Who Dream of Neverland by S.T. Gibson