The only thing that I’ve ever actually learned while growing up is that the people who you once thought would be the ones beside your death bed are actually the ones who will be half way across the world during that time.
That, or I just don’t get along with Gemini’s.
men who are artists love showing girls, who are so sad, so beautiful - girls crying in showers, girls with delicate bones curled into a fetal position. they want our eyeliner to run but never for our eyes to get puffy. they want our sadness but our anger isn’t pretty.
and they love us being girls - infantile, dependent on men. they love us when we’re broken so long as our pieces aren’t jagged.