Hell in High Heels

You only see the beauty, never the pain

Three days rule — 2016/11/18

Three days rule

Just give him three days. Wait three days, no texts, no calls, no nothing. Then see if he comes back”
“What if I can’t wait three days tho”
“You see the thing is, you keep running back to him and he gets off on it. He knows he’s gonna have you coming back to him. Why not give him three days and make him realize, oh shit it’s serious, I’m really losing her!”
“What if he doesn’t even come back?”
“Then why would you wanna be with someone that doesn’t want you? Why would you wanna be with someone like that

__ Deep thoughts


If it takes someone three days to contact me, I want no part of their craziness. I want to be chosen, all my insanity, all my honesty. Without regard for struggles to be faced, I want someone to choose me. To actively say, “That’s my human. I like that human.” I will wait, because I am enough in and of myself, to be chosen by someone. Not to be a thirsty girl, not to seek attention or whore out my body. I am enough. I think if more girls heard this in their youth we wouldn’t have the pervasive thoughts of “men must accept me” of those generations today. My 3 day rule is legit. My 3 day rule keeps me from fretting over bullshit. If someone can’t contact me on the regular, I have better things to invest my time in. I am better than being second best to anything.

falling apart, a rough draft — 2016/11/13

falling apart, a rough draft

Dave Matthews blares on her speakers, she wonders if she will ever find someone to love her, wholly her completely. That’s what she wanted, to know she was primary in someone’s life, with no exceptions. She lost herself in the music, in Dave talking about losing himself in her chest. The hours drift by and suddenly she realizes something. She can rebuild herself to be whatever she wants. No one knows her in this town, no one would care if she disappeared. She decides right then and there that she is worth more than being someone’s second choice. She is no second line draft. She prays that she will suddenly come down with some Self Respect to disallow her from falling prey to wishful thinking men, who only want a toy. She falls apart, realizing that she is simply who she’s allowed herself to become. The tears stream down her cheeks, sorrowful yet acknowledging the truth. That she is worth more than rubies, that she has within her the power to demand change. She controls her tomorrow. No one else drives her.


This is freedom. Knowing within yourself that you are enough. Knowing that no one has the right to demand you change any aspect of your personality or looks for their pleasure.

Hands in pockets — 2016/11/10

Hands in pockets

You want to put your hands in your pockets and pretend like they aren’t shaking. You want to be everything for everyone, as it always has been. But then on a whim, you run off with a guy, he sees through your bullshit walls and calls you out on your shit. You begin to think that this could be your new forever, and you forget some of the shit that’s happened to you. You feel like this could be a new start for you. But then the person begins to say things like “I think you need medication” “I think you are mentally ill”, and you see that maybe this person isn’t as golden as you believed. You are a strong person, but in two weeks this person has made you into someone who struggles to breathe on their own. They want you to be dependent on them, while professing how happy they are with your relationship as it is. When they begin to knock you around, calling it a “passionate display of affection” warning bells go off in your head. But you mute them, because you can’t trust your own brain, right? You lean into the abuse, feeling like this is the best it gets, and you wait for the pain to pass. You know it will, it’s just about outlasting the pain. Given the choice between this type of life and the one you had, lately you’ve been thinking about how much better your life was, but given your present circumstance, anything is better.

So put your hands in your pockets, if you need to collect yourself. Know that your storm will pass, and you will always have people behind you. People who cherish you, who want to hear that you got home safe. But also know that you can let your hands shake. It’s okay to be bare in front of other people. Given the choice between a mask and the barren truth, let your hands shake. The mask is just a false reality. It’s your way of defending against the abuse you’ve endured. Give yourself grace to endure through it and be real with people.



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