crazy quirky 18 yr old girl
My body is not yours to discover and call your own. The rolling hills of my hips are not for sale, and the waves of my hair cannot be conquered. Ownership for my body is my own. I spit on the men who believe my body is something to be had.
It amazes me how easy it is for things to change, how easy it is to start off down the same road you always take and wind up somewhere new. Just one false step, one pause, one detour, and you end up with new friends or a bad reputation or a boyfriend or a breakup. It’s never occurred to me before; I’ve never been able to see it. And it makes me feel, weirdly, like maybe all of these different possibilities exist at the same time, like each moment we live has a thousand other moments layered underneath it that look different