Anonymous said: What's so bad about periods
- Blood comes out of your vagina for anywhere from 3-7 days
- That blood you lose can be around 4 tablespoons to a cup
- a cup of blood, vaginal mucus, and endometrial tissue
- You get cramps that will make you cry. You can vomit and/or pass out from them
- You will get horrible mood swings
- You get headaches
- Your breasts hurt so bad sometimes you can’t even touch them
- You get acne everywhere
- Your actual vagina could be sore
- Your feel constantly tired
- You have a constant fear of soaking through your pad/tampon
- You can’t lay a certain way in bed
- You take pill after pill and it still doesn’t help
- You bloat and gain weight
- You might have anemia (iron deficiency) which can not clot your blood causing so much blood loss it’ll be deadly
- You never feel full
- Everything irritates you
- You will cry a lot
- Once you get up in the morning, your center of gravity has shifted and all the blood settling in you during the night will now rush out of you causing you to clench your legs tightly to avoid leaking
- You get made fun of for having a period ?////?/?/
- You’re forced to go to school/work
- You get told that you’re overreacting
but ya know, fixing your dick discreetly in public is bad too
Today, I tried walking without my eyes. I stumbled into the realization that this body is not a very good bomb shelter. It’s more like a straw house, a pile of sticks making collect calls to the wind wondering when it will be picked up.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to be myself, and some days I’m not sure who that is. The last time I heard my voice, it didn’t even sound familiar.
Yesterday, I saw my reflection. It wouldn’t look me in the eye because he’s too ashamed of all the things he will never be.
Sometimes there is a “Help me” chained to the ankle of an “I’m doing alright”.
Every day, I try to fit this anorexic ego into the costume of a confident man but fake smiles irritate my skin and right now I have a rash the size of a confession.
I’m a zip lock bag full of apologies I haven’t found the courage to give to the people who deserve them.
When I’m depressed, I’m willing to chase anything that has no ambition of staying. Women and parking spaces begin to look identical. I treat intimacy like a fire escape forgetting that eventually we both have to go home.
When you are lonely for this long, you stop calling it lonely.
You call it Tuesday."Tuesday" - Rudy Francisco (via fuckyeahrudyfrancisco)
“How dare you pretend as though there isn’t a woman out there scrubbing the inside of her thighs until they turn stop sign red trying to erase your fingerprints from her skin?”— ”Monsters” - Rudy Francisco
I’m not a huge fan of small talk. I’m bad at introductions and my tongue trips over its own feet more often than I can keep count of. I’d rather not speak because I’m bad at it. My voice quivers, I speak too fast and too quietly. The only thing I can do is write because my fingers know how to fly while my tongue is still glued to the ground.
My first psychiatrist sits me down after my second overdose and tells me, “You have a beautiful mind.” I want to tell him that it doesn’t feel beautiful from the inside. The roof is caving in, the doors are splintered, the paint job was never finished to begin with. There are cracks in the foundation and my mind was built on a fault line. Maybe, this is why I cannot stop shaking in public.
I eat every two hours. My stomach is located near my heart and between the two I’m not sure which one’s emptier. I’m not sure which one’s bigger either. They seem to both be the size of my fist but they can stretch beyond human limits. I seem to waste my time on people who don’t deserve it.
I crave physical intimacy more than love because I don’t think I have the patience for the latter. I seem to have commitment issues and sometimes I even have trouble committing to the idea of braces. The only thing I can seem to commit to my cat. I can’t stand the idea of getting close to someone and sometimes I even run away from my own family.
I’ve burnt down my body so close to the ground. I’ve spent a year trying to build something out of my own ashes. People think I’m worth loving but I’m still having trouble convincing myself that I deserve to be loved.
I think I am scared of being happy because I’m not sure how long it’s going to last. I’m learning to remember the good moments instead of focusing on the bad.
Maybe I burnt myself down just so I could get a fresh start.
4:58 p.m. (An Honest Poem)expresswithsilence)
This is beautiful.
I wonder what the curtains would do if they found out about all the things Iʼve done behind their back.
I have a hamper thatʼs overflowing with really, really loud mistakes
and a graveyard in my closet.
Iʼm afraid if I let you see my skeletons,
youʼd grind my bones into powder and get high off my fault lines. Rudy Francisco, My Honest Poem (via expresswithsilence)
11x14 inches. Acrylic on panel
From my show with Chris Sheridan called “Inner Beauty” at Bherd Studios Gallery.