She loves in a way where love could be a cure.
A cure from hate, anger, sadness, and even from love itself.
She loves so strongly, so purely, so passionately,
That sometimes, most times, she forgets to love herself.
And although her love was grand,
The love she gave was never the love she gained.
Escaped.
Lost but not lost.
And here you are.
And here am I.
And all I want is for you to turn around.
And see that I see,
That you too are a work of art.
Hey Tumblr. I’ve been gone for a long while, but that’s because I’ve been studying (and making) Art. I’ll be making original posts again (kinda missed that). Still, I invite you to check out my art page on FB (It’s still under construction so be nice). Here are just some of the things you’ll find at my page, hope you enjoy it!
https://www.facebook.com/Alejandra-Nanishi-Artist-1662490173998818/?ref=page_internal
I miss your hands caressing my body,
and your lips healing my heart.
I miss your voice calming my voices,
and your strength lifting me up.
Let me tell you a story of many others that have happened.
This morning, I was on my way to the bus stop, as I usually do almost everyday, to go to class. I had some jeans on, walking shoes, my boyfriends jacket (it was cold) and my backpack. When I get there the stop was empty and the only people around was a guy on the other side of the street and myself. Whatever, I don’t mind ‘cause I was paying attention to see if I could spot the bus from afar. (I was also late) Half a minute pass and I hear the guy muttering words from the other side of the street. I just thought he was one of the mentally ill guys that sometimes sits there. Later on, he’s screaming asking why was I not paying attention to him? That he had a bottle of wine that we could share and that after he could make my fantasies come true. Why was I ignoring him? I was too beautiful to be ignoring such offer.
The bus wasn’t near so I walked to the next stop where there are more people around.
I, as also many other women, are victims of street harassment. And if you think that that is “nothing to be worried about”, that I “should just ignore it”, you are wrong. I want to walk down the streets feeling good about myself, feeling powerful and beautiful without having in mind that some guy wants me in their bed “making my fantasies a reality”. I want to use whatever clothes I put on in the morning and not have to think twice if that outfit really is “appropriate” or if that outfit will not cause someone to harass me on the street.
I ask myself, WHERE did this “CULTURE” even started? And WHY hasn’t anyone done anything to stop it?
(Source: nypost, via thelifeandtimesofamadman-deacti)