Dear future self

(i) I hope one day you are with someone who not only comments on the scars that litter your arms, but tells you how proud they are that you have them rather than a gravestone

(ii) I hope you tell yourself that too

(iii) I hope when you open your eyes in the morning the first thing you notice is the way the light kisses your skin and the ache in your chest is replaced by the awe of the beauty of the morning

(iv) I hope you find the courage to say no without giving reason

(v) I hope you put pen to paper again and find the strength to write letters to people you care about without having reason, just to remind them you love them, rather than to say goodbye

(vi) I hope you learn to embrace the way your hair curls more on one side than the other, I hope you learn to love it

(vii) I hope your first instinct when you wake is to reach for your dreams rather than tablets

(ix) I hope you look at other people and not only see their beauty, but also acknowledge your own

(x) I hope your world is no longer a stream of insecurity, where anxiety licks at your brain and depression grips onto your fingers

(xi) I hope you remember that you are worth something and that you do not need to prove that to anyone

(xii) I hope you know that you were always beautiful, long before he told you you were.


Dear future self // E.E (via be-fearless-brave-and-kind)

(via latersfifty)

"You guys know about vampires? … You know, vampires have no reflections in a mirror? There’s this idea that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. And what I’ve always thought isn’t that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. It’s that if you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves. And growing up, I felt like a monster in some ways. I didn’t see myself reflected at all."

Junot Díaz on race and representation in media (via funeral)

(Source: medievalpoc, via buddhacoffee)


You remember too much,

my mother said to me recently.

Why hold onto all that?

And I said,

Where do I put it down?


Anne Carson, from “The Glass Essay” (via vrban)

(via buddhacoffee)