worldfamousprofessor:

On Facebook, I listed Kanye West
under the section on my profile
about inspirational people.
I got a message asking if it was a joke.
“He’s too arrogant,
he’s too self-obsessed,
and he’s a bit of an asshole,” they said
as though it were obvious,
like there isn’t any other truth in the world.

For the record
and remember it well,
I don’t think Kanye gives even an ounce of a shit.
Despite that,
I’ve never felt like I needed to defend someone
more than I need to defend Yeezy.

He makes it look easy -
loving yourself.
That’s not something I’ve ever been able to do.
I am a little girl who grew up with too many men
telling her she wasn’t worth the shit on their shoes
and too many girls telling her
if she only tried a little harder, did a little better,
maybe someone could love her.
Because that’s all that matters, they told me.
Having someone love you is the end all, be all.
It’s what you need,
it’ll help you breathe
a little easier at night.

The only words I ever heard
were the ones putting me down
until eventually the biggest voice was my own.
If only I was pretty enough,
if only I was smart enough,
if only I was talented enough.
Maybe I’d matter.

When you learn self-hatred,
it clouds your vision
until you no longer see things for what they really are.
Instead of the eyes of other people,
you see your own hate reflected back at you
and walking around you at every moment
are the ghosts of your failure.

Self-hatred is heavy.
And you try to bleed it out
and you try to drown it
and you try to cure it
but those cuts on your arm
and that bottle of vodka
and all the pills in your house
aren’t the secret ingredients to loving yourself.
Death is not love.

By the first time I saw Kanye West on TV,
I was suffocated with these ideas of
self-loathing and worthlessness.
And the jokes everyone made at his expense were funny.
Does he really think he’s all that?
What a weird guy.
Because it must be weird to love yourself.
I’ve certainly never felt it.

Then he kept showing up on my television
and my computer screen.
I kept laughing at the absurdity
that he wouldn’t just back down
and admit how much he hated himself.
Lord knows he must.
Everybody does.

He became notable for his award speeches.
In one of those very speeches,
he said: “I hear that works for a lot of celebrities,
when they act like they don’t deserve things.”
It really, actually seemed like maybe he didn’t understand
why someone would believe
they weren’t good enough.
So for once in my life,
I decided to question it too.

My name is Amanda,
which means “worthy of love”
so why do I go through my life
feeling like I’m not?
What is the point of
hating myself?

I can crumble each day into a small paper ball
and toss it into a wastebasket
with the affirmation that tomorrow will be better
until that trash can’s spilling over with
days I didn’t think I was good enough.
I can do it ‘til there’s nothing left,
‘til the clock’s run out and my time’s up
and I have nothing to show for all the effort I spent
because I never found the words to convince myself
it was worth something.

But if I do that,
what do I have?
Nobody reads the words
that get thrown in the garbage.
They fall into trucks and get sent to dumps
where they sit unread
until they’re swallowed by a bird
who doesn’t know the meaning of
good enough.

I want to have the self-acceptance
to be a joke from the tongue of Aziz Ansari.
I wanna listen to my own record
and bop my own head
and have not a doubt in my mind
that these beats are dope.

If I could then I would
get on national TV
and stand up for something,
stand up for what’s important
no matter how uncomfortable
the truth makes Michael Myers feel.

I want to live each day like Kanye,
believing in nothing if not myself.
I want entertainment bloggers to say I’m arrogant
because I know how the opposite feels.

Yeezy taught me
to see myself with clarity
and to love everything I do.

Yeezy taught me
that the only person you need to be good enough for
is you.

Yeezy taught me
to stop hating myself
as if I’ll ever be anyone else.

Yeezy taught me
to finally stop listening to the voices
I’ve heard my whole life
and to realize that I am worth
everything.

So no.
I guess Kanye is not my inspiration.
Because he has taught me
to be inspired by myself.

(via kittybrat)

deafheaven:

 Sunbather

 

I held my breath and drove through a maze of wealthy homes. I watched how green the trees were. I watched the steep walkways and the white fences. I gripped the wheel. I sweated against the leather. I watched the dogs twist through the wealthy garden. I watched you lay on a towel in grass that exceeded the height of your legs. I gazed into reflective eyes. I cried against an ocean of light. 

Crippled by the cushion, I sank into sheets frozen by rose pedal toes. My back shivered for your pressed granite nails. Dishonest and ugly through the space in my teeth. Break bones down to yellow and crush gums into blood. The hardest part for the weak was stroking your fingers with rings full of teeth..

It’s 5 A.M…and my heart flourishes at each passing moment. 

Always and forever.