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Fjadrargljufur Canyon was honestly one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen with my own two eyes. We started hiking up, and I thought that it...

Things no one tells you about buying glasses in Japan! Now I know there are so many people getting their glasses in Japan and Instagram and TikTok were littered with videos about buying glasses in...

10 Times Tami Taylor Said Exactly What You Needed To Hear

And I’ve kept my mouth shut. I’ve delicately arranged the duct tape over my own lips. Do-it-yourself oppression. Bring-your-own degradation. I’ve stood in the path of hurricanes — tied my own hands to the tracks. It’s just the way things are done, darling. It’s just the silence we all savor. I’ve felt the hands, the arms and words. No fighter — all slave. Offering myself up for sacrifice. And this fight is dangerous, darling — but we’re all sleepwalking to our deaths anyway. And if I ever teach you anything, It won’t be how to get beaten standing still. My mouth must kiss the fire, melt the frozen Yes still surrounding my strong tongue. These eyes will meet eyes — entitlement meeting its breaking point. For you belong to no one but yourself. And I — I am the same. I’ll lay out my past in pages and poured pain. Scrolling scrawls of the ways I’ve crawled across the floor to make myself less — so he could be more. You deserve to know, darling. That lowering yourself to raise another, it’s taking steps down to your grave. But this shovel has more uses than one. And I’ll break my way through this zombie horde. A warrior queen with arms like iron. You have three years, darling — before I was backed into corners. The only corners you make will be to accent your carefully carved strength. You have three years, darling — before I was grabbed by the waist. You’ll never waste away in hands that harm you. You have four years, darling — before my neck was claimed by crawling fingers. You have five years, darling — before that wall was cold behind my back and I told myself it’s what I wanted. You have six years, darling — before the welts drew an X to mark the spot where I said No — but he said it meant Yes. I tell you, darling — you’re an artist, you’re brilliant. I tell you, darling — they won’t value your work until you value it yourself. Stories-for-sale, fifty cents. I delicately drew that duct tape over my lips. Telling myself there were no value in words of tangled shadows. And those hands gripping my wrists became my own. Like Mona Lisa I smiled, poised with grace for the watchers. The critics in their coiffed contemplations — and still I smiled. But you won’t smile, darling. We won’t. I have hidden stories beneath my skin, but like tattoos they’re oozing up. I’m bleeding revelation — so warn the diving dragon. This woman isn’t running in fear. I will not be remembered for washing feet with tears. Each battle scar a mark of worth. As I clothe myself in purple, rising from a death I claimed as my own. Leaving coal there at his feet, those fields can gather themselves. I’m not kneeling for the remnants, the scattered grains of someone else’s glory. I’ll ride with seven seals imprinted on my forehead — four horses breaking through the dawn. With strong fingers, I’ll form bowls to gather the words to scatter in the waters. Warn the diving dragon. This woman will not run with fear — she wears a crown of stars. I have sixty years, darling — before they’ll lower me into the ground, but not before I’ve scorched my name into the earth above. And in the breeze a delicate piece of duct tape trembles. Singed. ***** A self-proclaimed recluse, Shandi would rather wander forest halls alone than dance under bright lights. Enamored with the idea that all healing comes from self-knowledge, she explores herself, constantly memorizing the constellations in her own soul to find her way among the stars above her. A writer since the age of nine, Shandi is often found curled up in bed typing by the light of a small white screen. She is obsessed with tasting every matcha latte on this earth before she dies, and being barefoot as often as inappropriately possible. Her sentences are always too long. Comments Bio Facebook Latest Posts Programs, Coaching & Courses Rebelle SocietyRebelle Society is an online hub for writers, artists and creators sharing their stories and celebrating the Art of Being Alive. Join us on Facebook & Instagram for inspiration and Creative Rebellion. Join our Rebelle Insider List along with thousands of Dreamers & Doers around the world for FREE creative resources, special discounts on our programs, soul fuel & motivation to love and create your life. Latest posts by Rebelle Society (see all) Cemetery of Tears. - June 13, 2024 My Identity Journey: What’s in a Name? - June 13, 2024 Cyprus: A Magic Place That Feels Like Home. - June 13, 2024

If I hadn't seen this with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it

with the message "i am my own muse" at the front and its pretty evil eye design at the back, this cotton tee shirt will provide you comfort and a stylish and casual look ideal as a gift ♥seen on pinterest♥ .: Available in a lot of colors and sizes .: Made using 100% US cotton that is ethically grown and harvested. Gildan is also a proud member of the US Cotton Trust Protocol ensuring ethical and sustainable means of production.

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My mother, born and raised in Taiwan, believes in spirits. “I’ve seen them on my own eye,” is how she puts it. When I was a kid her stories of ghost sightings came across as weirdly banal because she never told them as entertainment, but as reportage, and believing in spirits in Taiwan, at least […]

"A cartoon fried egg. An eye. The tiniest of black holes. It needed a professional eye to be seen, but once pointed out it was undeniable. My own little Big Bang. The beginning of it all." When Chitra Ramaswamy discovered she was pregnant, she longed to read something that went above and beyond a biology book or prescriptive manual; something that, instead, got to the heart of this thrilling, bewildering, overlooked, and often misrepresented experience. Expecting is a creative memoir. Through nine chapters exploring the nine months of pregnancy and birth, Ramaswamy takes the reader on a physical, intellectual, emotional, literary, and philosophical journey through the landscape of pregnancy. Childbearing and childbirth are experiences defined both by the measurable monthly changes to one's life and body, and by those immeasurable, often obscured and neglected changes in perspective which are accessed through metaphor, art, and emotion. Ramaswamy bears witness to the individual and collective experience of pregnancy in this intimate yet expansive book of wild and lyrical essays, paying tribute to this most extraordinary and ordinary of experiences.

"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” Zeiler said. “It’s just crazy.”

Focus is all about understanding your business purpose, who your service is for, what you can help people with, and why people should care.

Refinery29 catches up with My So-Called Life's costume designer Patrick R. Norris on the show's anniversary.

Hands-On Fundraising Blog: Fundraising advice and insights for fundraisers like you. Fundraising strategy, donor communications, and more.