a girl called home

via giasco bertolli some of this is not so safe for work btw



photographer unknown famous celebrated photographer via the sourceless overflowing internet

you should watch this in full screen:

Les 5 siamoises from Hugo Arcier.

diablo cody and megan fox and eating boys in Jennifer's Body...





and then the inevitable happened. circles circles circles circles. unending stupid circles finished and closed before they're begun. so many belongings to retrieve realizing again that no one ever belongs to anyone no matter what naive promises are made and believed and even when you pull yourself open as far as you can and it hurts realizing you'll never close the same way, you'll never retract to what you were before you followed in faith and gave yourself beyond your own limits and protests, violating your own safety just to make room for you just to say see come here you can live inside me and you come home one day feeling bloated and stuffed and too full of them and you open the door and are shocked that they're not even inside anymore. that they left in the dark while you lay sleeping, distracted, fighting nightmares all night you were deserted and sick with horror the skin snaps back closing up sealing off for the last time but inside now empty it's still not the same there's a hole they left for you a giant gaping inside and you remember how there was a time when you were a fully complete person, a body intact, connected tissues and muscles and thoughts before you forced yourself open to accommodate them, exceeding your limits to protect them, to hide them away from the outside and with deep sadness you promise not to do it again how it's impractical and dangerous and boring and leaves you limp and bloated and defined by loss and lost, open discarded like a torn empty balloon that once was and still you know against all knowing in a crazy fit of delusional faith you'll say come here, come to me, i'll keep you safe, come live inside of me, i want you to live in me, i'll carry you with me and you can have all of me everything you want, i know you won't leave me empty and wounded, open and discarded, it's different with you, i know you so well, like you were already here, like you were always supposed to be here inside me like we were born together but somehow lost each other, got separated along the way and then the cliche cycle repeats and you know you'll still do it again and you'll even point it out to yourself and write it down indulging yourself and this ordinary woe while a more than a million hearts do the same in the same seconds of the same days but that won't stop you from tearing yourself open even wider this time to take all of them inside again where they belong where they have no business to be and you'll spill your boring, infinitely common, trauma heart stretchmarks on somewhere like blogger like a million others because you don't care to hide the obvious anymore and tomorrow will wake up and start the process over again, picking up shards, bleeding out the pain, and find hot model fuckable girls bodies so similar, long legs intertwined and you'll keep your heart closed as tightly as you can while you wonder why your breasts are so huge, engorged, water retention, nipples such tender pain to the touch and after so many months without a period you pray it's not milk, that you'll not find out your full with somebody else and tomorrow i'll buy myself another few dozen pregnancy tests.