sawsbuckgo:

I am not the girl who comes along and changes your whole world.
I am not the girl who can melt your every problem with a smile.
Your life thus far has not all been prelude to the day you met me.
I am not one of a kind
There ARE a million girls just like me, deny it all you want.
If I can’t love you, you sure as hell do not love me.
I am a very flawed individual.
My flaws are not cute.
Your acceptance of them does not mean you win me like some prize.
Believe me, other man have tried that route.
‘Oh, I think you’ll find I’m different.’
He winks. He is the same.
I am not a disney princess.
Compliments don’t make me love you.
I’m not awaiting rescue.
I have not been waiting for you.

You are not the man who comes along and changes my whole world.
You can be nice all you want.
It doesn’t mean I owe you a thing.
If I can’t see your life and my life comfortable merging, we will not happen.
Not because you didn’t tell me I’m pretty.
Not because you didn’t buy me lunch.
Dozens of men have done both of those things.
I didn’t marry them.
A mirror can tell me I’m attractive.
My parents and grandmother tell me I’m pretty.
I’m not going to pee myself over a guy who says the same.
That’s what is expected of me though.

All my life I’ve said yes because that’s what I’m supposed to do.
All my life boys have asked me to date them.
And little me says yes, certainly, because a pretty girl is supposed to have a boyfriend isn’t she?
So I spend time with him when I’d rather be somewhere else.
I let him touch me as ice runs down my spine and I throw up in my mouth.
Then I get sick of my misery and I leave him. He cries.
My misery was fine
Because he was happy.
It happens again until I’m an adult.
Then a few more times.

I start saying no.
What a bitch.
I wouldn’t mind being friends.
What a tease.
I like hanging out with you.
I can’t be around you, he tells me.
I’ll fall for you, he says.
If that’s the case, fuck him.
I won’t fake happiness for another second.
Maybe someday I’ll find a man I enjoy being with. Maybe I’ll feel comfortable when he sits close to me. Maybe he’ll smile and my problems will melt. Maybe he’ll touch me and fire will run down my spine and love will come from my mouth.

If I tell you you are not that man,
Believe me.
I won’t keep faking happiness through misery
To please a man I don’t care for.
I owe you nothing.

Believe that.

crossroadsbela:

I don’t know how to say this

You always were better with words

It’s mid December though and these are the most lonely of days and I have never hated my brother and your mother more than I do now

Husbands and wives never should be kept apart

I suppose I ought to just come out with it than shouldn’t I?

You see, my sweet girl, I think sometimes that I have ruined something deep down, buried in the core of your being

I think sometimes that you were too young, too hungry, too eager to be eaten alive

I think sometimes that I’ve taken something that can never be replaced

I think sometimes that you’ve grown up before my eyes and my dear, my darling, my sweet queen, I think sometimes that you are magnificent

See, some nights I whisper “holy, holy, holy” into your shoulder blades 

 And you, you bite my wrists in return and say “teach me about sin, husband" 

But you, my love, my stolen bride, my runaway girl, you are mercy in this cold place.

 You think that you have evil at the core of you and your mother thinks that you have good and Persephone, sweet girl, I think that you have both

But I am cold like this place and you bring warmth and light and the dead look as if they have blood in their veins when you pass by.

 I think sometimes that I’ve ruined you 

 Sometimes when you smile you look empty, sometimes you terrify me, sometimes you laugh and snap your fingers and plot revenge against anyone who would dare cross us

 Sometimes I have to remind myself that you may look like a girl but you are of the same blood as me 

Sometimes I have to remember who your father is 

 Sometimes I think that we’ve ruined each other and that we will only ever leave destruction behind us 

 Sometimes you kiss me and smile and tell me “come away husband, come away and steal me again" 

 Sometimes I think I’ve ruined you 

 Always I take your hand and follow

Always you place your head on my knee and tell me that all I’ve done was allow you to grow 

 Always I believe you

–L.D.

horono:

crossroadsbela:

The old gods are dead

Zeus sits at the bar, he’ll buy a thousand and one drinks and the girls who he smiles at will raise their eyebrows and think of the pepper spray tucked into their sleeves.

Hera waits at home. She knows the numbers of all the girls and she has their facebooks open on the computer. Her hands hover over the keyboard., She wants to tell them that men will always lie. She wants to take her own advice. She never will.

Apollo and Artemis travel the world. They are chasing the sun. Chasing the moon. They will never catch up. Their hand are curled around each others hip bones. Never in public though. They look too similar for that now. Society has learned judgement and so they keep their caresses safe in the shadows.

Poseidon wanders the shore. He wears a plastic poncho and carries a bag of trash. His tears mix with the salt water. No one can tell the difference. A girl with hair that moves like serpents trails after him, retribution in her eyes.

Hades lies in bed, his wife curled around him. He smiles because people will always believe in death and finally, finally he has beaten his brothers at something.

Athena paces through college campuses, handing out pamphlets on architecture. She scoffs at professors who are simply going through the motions. She carries signs in her hands as she marches through the streets with the students, screaming about the newest problem. She laughs wild, these children, these fearless children are her people.

Hestia wants her family to come home. She waits in the doorway, arms outstretched and a smile like forgiveness waiting to embrace the siblings whom she knows will never return.

Demeter counts down the days until her daughter returns. She smiles when children cheer over the snow days she gives them. There was a time when she had a child like that.

Persephone kisses her husband and grins when people tremble. She is vengeful and wears flowers in her hair and she will make damn sure that the world will never forget her name.

Ares walks through the Middle East, picking his way around the ruins of an elementary school. He stopped understanding war a long time ago. This was not brave, this was not heroic. This was senseless.

Aphrodite narrows her eyes at boys in cars who yell obscene things. She’s long since stopped romanticizing love. She is gaunt and over worked but sometimes she sees a teenage girl handing her baby over to an older couple who had tried for years and she feels young again. Sometimes, she sees Ares from across the room as soldiers embrace their loved ones and they smile at each other. 

 Hephaestus limps through his shop, his hands are worn down, his back is still twisted but people don’t seem to notice anymore. He makes their furniture, their toys and trinkets and they thank him, they pay him.

 Hermes runs through the streets of New York, Tokyo, London. He is young in this time, young and beautiful and slipping between business men, his hands finding their way into their pockets. He never stops laughing. 

 Dionysus mixes Zeus his drinks. He watches his family grin and cry and get sick in the back room of the bar. He holds back their hair and hands them another drink before they even ask. He’s been here a long time. He’s seen them drunk more often then he’s seen them sober. He is watching them flicker out and fade. 

 The gods are dying. The gods are dead. The gods are us.

-L.D.

Uhhhhh… That was different but yet, it had a impact