There will come a time when you want to cut off all your hair. Do it. Realise that the thing you want rid of doesn’t lie in the long curls that frame your face so perfectly. Live with short hair for a while. It’ll grow.
You won’t always want to talk to people. That’s okay. When it’s late and you hear your friends talking in the next room, you don’t have to join them. You’re allowed your solitude. It makes company sweeter and it teaches you how to survive alone. You will need that skill.
In the winter, you’ll believe that nothing will ever grow again. You’re wrong. Every year, London looks like it’s on its last legs, wheezing through those last cold days in March. Every year, spring comes like an explosion and the city shakes off its sleep.
Mundane problems will get the better of you sometimes. Don’t worry. Try as you might, life cannot be an endless, beautiful, intense moment. Find comfort in money worries and late trains; they’re a welcome rest in between heartbreaks and breakdowns.
People will call you a cynic, a wry smile on their faces. Pay them no mind. You alone know that you are capable of a love greater than anything they can comprehend. You alone know that you are not willing to sell your identity and respect to the first smirking halfwit to pass by. It is not cynicism. It is reverence for your own vast and fathomless heart, and it makes sense only to love someone who understands that and is awed by it.
You will not always get what you want when you want it. Accept it. Your goals are not set in stone and you are not on a fixed trajectory. Sometimes, life will take its time and you will have to play the long, interminable game. Play it well and with as much grace as you can muster. Live at your own pace.
At night, you will occasionally wake up afraid, wanting to die. Don’t give in. Night plays its tricks, but you are not so easily fooled. Your mind will play its tricks, too. It will make you believe that you’re not who you are, but you must not give in. You take a breath and you tell yourself that you are here. That you always were.
8 Ways To Say I Love You
1. Spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night’s clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.
2. Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.
3. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that’s what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you’ve always known.
4. Whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you’ve counted the space between her breaths and are certain she’s asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when she shifts toward you in askance. Maybe you were just sleep whispering.
5. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on “in that shirt” or “when you make your award-winning meatballs” or, if you are feeling particularly brave, “when we do this.” Resume dancing and pretend you don’t feel her eyes on you the rest of the night.
6. Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr. Darcy’s. Debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? In her coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. Let her wonder if you meant it.
7. Wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore. Wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing Wabash against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realize you are actually just terrified of living without her. Tell her with your hands shaking.
8. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like “I think” or “I might.” Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”
If you smell good I will be 300% more attracted to you
Wooow I never looked at twerking this way. O.O but I’m still an advocate of stopping girls under the age of 18 from twerking. Because honestly watching a 14 year old shake her ass no matter how grown her body looks is disgusting.
Then people shouldn’t sexualize the body of a 14 year old, no matter how grown her body looks
Ballerinas do full body splits showing their inner pelvis and crotches in thin tights and there are girls and boys doing that at a young age but that is not a sexual act and it shouldnt turn anyone on because its dance, its an expression, simple movement of the body to convey an art
the human body, especially that of a child’s isn’t(read as never should be) inherently sexual, he twerking is just a dance and if someone finds sexual peasure in a 14 year old shaking her body, they shouldnt be around children point blank
I have seen 12 year olds twerk something fiercy and it’s not them trying to seduce some older man with their bodies, they are having fun and expressing themselves from what they learned form their culture(it was a a west indie sweet 16)
I’m 16 and I damn sure don’t twerk for no body but myself. If a boy or girl finds it hot or attractive that’s on them. I’m not practicing in the mirror so some fuck boy i dont like from school can get a boner trying to grind on my ass, i do it so i can be a better dancer/for my self
If people have a problem with how I move MY body for MYSELF that’s there problem and taking it out on a little girl won’t solve the problem. We need to teach adults not to lust after little kids because be it shaking their ass, moving their hips or sitting quietly in the corner, a pedophile is a pedophile
Thank you! This is exactaly what I’m always trying to explain to people
If you can watch a video like this
a little girl dancing a dance unique to her culture, and your argument is that she is being sexualize, i then i think you need to ask yourself self why you think a 7 year old shaking her hips is sexy at all.
"how many times are you going to listen to that song" until the void in my heart is filled
how can lawyers argue without crying