Carpe Futurum

I always seem to pick the bedrooms that face east. This time, my room turns into a shadow when I’m awake. All but one light has burned out, and I’m moving in a week so there’s no point in brightening the place up. When he was still here I’d sleep on the floor and wake up every morning with the sun on my face. 7:53 am. 7:49 am. 7:32 am. When he left I went back to my bed. Something about beds were unsettling when the rest of my life was so unstable. But I remember falling asleep on the floor watching the sun move across my skin, across the walls. My heater didn’t work all winter but I’d sleep naked anyways. There were never any birds. There was never anything. Winter made me feel like everything in the world was put on hold. I haven’t sat on that place in my room in months. Now I sleep the wrong way on a bed too big for me with a quilt my mom’s best friend made for my parents’ wedding. I never touched the quilt until I left home, but it feels right here. I’ve spent the past year falling asleep next to boys who aren’t mine and going on walks alone at 5 in the morning. Then I complain about not having what I want. What makes me think that I deserve to have something stay when I pull things away that don’t belong to me? I don’t see the sunrise anymore unless I’m up all night getting to know a stranger, which I prefer to sleeping. But how many times can I meet people who will say anything at all that resonates with what I already have inside of me? 6:13 am. 6:09 am. 5:52 am.

When boys choose you for one night, walk away.
When they don’t have the decency to be honest, run.
And don’t turn around. There is nothing left to feel
in the places you have already been.
You don’t have to make yourself smaller so you can fit in his world.
You are vast. You are strong. You are more than most can hold.
Be proud of that.
Carry yourself like a diamond,
like a volcano on the verge of erupting.
Carry yourself like something precious and strong,
beautiful and intimidating.
You belong to yourself.

Chemistry is you touching my arm and it setting fire to my mind

—Nayyirah Waheed (via clublillies)

(via thenocturnals)