The Witch Doesn't Burn in This One

women don't endure simply because we can; no, women endure because we aren't given any other choice. - they wanted us weak but forced us to be strong.

i don't wear makeup for others the same way i don't decorate my house for others. this is my home & everything i do is for me.

To be a woman is to be warbound, knowing all the odds are stacked against you.

Ready for a harsh truth? Women don’t need your validation. We already have our own.

if the very idea of standing up for myself frightens you so damn much then i guess the power you thought you held over ome wasn't that impressive in the first place. -fragile masculinity

But what if the devil is just a woman who was banished to hell to stoke the flames as punishment for standing up to him?

I bleed twelve weeks a year, so I know a thing or two about bloodstains.

gods, i hope i terrify you.

you are your own lighthouse.

Curves and fat and rolls are a colossal ‘fuck you’ to the patriarchy – our accidental rebellion.

telling me not all men have bad intentions doesn't do anything to reassure me. after i walk away from you, nothing will have changed. i will still be scared to leave my house after sundown. i will still find comfort in keys resting between fingers, i will still question the intentoins of every man i know i will still wonder when i am to become a story meant to warn other people's daughters, & i will still cry when i turn on the television to find yet another man getting away with well-- what they always seem to get away with. i am not the one who has to change the way i think or the way i act. they are.

It’s such a shame that you will finally have to learn that there are consequences to treating women like they’re nothing. You may have gotten to walk away, but a piece of me will follow you forever. Now, isn’t that romantic?

I am not the one who has to change the way I think or the way I act. They are.

women are libraries about to burst.

Fuck the idea of staying calm.

call me bitch. call me villain. call me she-wolf. call me bad omen. call me your worst nightmare wearing a red-lipped smile. -even better, call me by my name.

my self-worth shouldn’t feel like an act of bravery.

to be a woman is to be warbound, k n o w i n g all the odds are stacked against you. - & never giving up in spite of it.

forget being lady-like & allow yourself to show the world just how unapolegeticaly angry this inequality makes you

ready for a harsh truth? women don't need your validation. we already have our own. - my self-worth shouldn't feel like an act of bravery.

Let it guide you into a grand love affair with yourself. Until the love becomes so second nature you need it no more.

tell me something, would you? haven't you ever wished you could dance in the ashes of everyone who ever doubted your worth & scoffed at your words? (shh it's okay. i won't tell)

fuck the idea of staying calm. there’s no such thing as a kind uprising. there are no “please”s, no “thank you”s, & no justice without yelling.

Sometimes friendship is the motherfucking prizes, so be grateful I let you in at all.

i can't seem to recall agreeing to be a casualty of these manmade disasters

this is an overdue love letter to each & every woman who walked these fields before me & made the path soft enough for me to walk through to get to the side they could never reach. for that, i owe you so much. - but i owe some things to myself, too.

red lipstick: an external sign of internal fire.-we tried to warn you.