Clutter and mess show us that life is being lived…Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation… Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend. What people somehow forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here.

~ Anne Lamott

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be tough.

break ups are lame. like baking a whole batch of fish sticks and realizing the tartar sauce you bought tastes like pap smear. lame.

little lady, the world revolves, and it will again, at the end of the horizon, it will begin. the difference between letting go and holding on, is where you stand when he’s long gone. time will only tinge your smile with regret, and there will always be memory’s silhouette to remind you of what could’ve been, maybe. if only you didn’t let your heart stray free. it hurts, i know, there’s no way around that, casualties are inherent in any sort of combat. but you’re a tough one, good times will come, just wait. sometimes, being tough doesn’t mean that you’re great, sometimes being tough is just being okay.

the wrong turn.

The problem is, if I think you’re about to hurt me, I won’t just pull away, I’ll disappear. No questions, no confrontation, no explanation, not a peep. I’ll just disappear. And you’ll be left wondering what the hell happened, where did you — where did we — when did everything go so wrong.

you to me are beautiful

Laughter is beautiful. Kindness is beautiful. Cellulite is beautiful. Softness and plumpness and roundness are beautiful. It’s more important to be interesting, to be vivid, and to be adventurous, than to sit for pictures. A woman’s soft tummy is a miracle of nature. Beauty comes from tenderness. Beauty comes from variety, from specificity, from the fact that no person in the world looks exactly like anyone else. Beauty comes from the tragedy that each person’s life is destined to be lost to time. I believe women are too hard on themselves. I believe that when you love someone, she becomes beautiful to you. I believe the eyes see everything through the heart- and nothing in the world feels as good as resting them on someone you love. I have trained my eyes to look for beauty, and I’ve gotten very good at finding it. You can argue and tell me it’s not true, but I really don’t care what anyone says. I have come, at last, to believe in the title I came up with for the book: Everyone Is Beautiful.

 Katherine Center

that friend.

The worst thing in life is to lose a friend. A friend that means the world to you, a friend that you put all your trust and faith in, a friend that you believed in from the start, a friend that took the center of your heart, a friend that you’d die for, a friend that you wanted to cherish for a lifetime, a friend, a good friend, a best friend.

Sex is not a goddamn performance

Sex should feel as natural as drinking water.

It should not require confidence.

Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe.

Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.
You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh.

It’s not about being “good in bed.”

It’s about being happy.

One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.

What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you.

Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.

Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be.

I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.

I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want.

It’s originality.

It’s passion.

It’s joy.

Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.

I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.

“Good in bed,” what.

You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you.

Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel.
This isn’t a test.

– Anonymous