Femcel - Blog Posts
— spring promises to be rainy
Is there someone here?
^^
children of the sun ⋆☀︎｡
my holy child ♡♱
𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 †
𓆩♡𓆪 you kicked and cried like a bullied child
༺𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙖༻
Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near
♡♱
Father, forgive them, because they don't know what they're doing.
the aliens are coming
— where are u, my angel?
🪽🪽🪽
ahh she is so me
When we grew up nothing was what it seemed ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆
༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ to be young and in love ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚
Do I know what it means to be a woman? Do I know the difference between a man strutting out his weight across the road while a woman shies off to give way? Do I know what it means to be a woman in a world where several of us are raped, killed, used, exploited, discarded, murdered, ripped, scrunched up, unwound, run over, violated, pried into, scraped, annihilated? Do not teach me my genitals; I know full well that they betray me to a life of suffering. To be a woman is to be a sacrifice, something to settle for— nymph, virgin, innocent, beautiful, motherly, young all at the same time. It is not enough to be one, or several; we must be all. Anything less is unacceptable in front of a measly appendage. I am something to be given away, something to be pursued, something to be caught despite what I may have to say in such a manner. I am something bartered; something sold (hopefully in pristine condition for that is where my value is), a commodity, a trophy at best; vermin, sad, unagreeable, used up cunt at worst. Wicked fruit bears a wicked tree, bears a wicked fruit; but perhaps mine is a dried up, rotting thing. The apple does not fall far from the tree, but its branches are tired; it crumbles under its own weight, crumpled over like a weeping willow next to the cedars and oak trees.
I have found that safety is to be undesirable.
what the FUCK do you mean not everyone percieves me the same way I do?????? what about all my efforts trying to appear mysterious and hot and perfect and interesting?????????? what am I supposed to do now, exist without the self-imposed burden of constantly orchestrating my every action to fulfil a specific outwards portrayal????????????
just got nettle stings all over my legs from running through a forest at dusk because i was spooked by an owl that is so manic pixie dream girl of me
hot girls don't know their lefts and rights
ink-stained fingers, crumpled sheets of unfinished poetry, withered roses, lipstick on the rim of a coffee cup, dark chocolate, forgotten gods, starless nights, red candles, bloody knees, ribbons in hair
girls bathroom
Blocking me won't stop me from you <33
I hate girls that call themself weird when they are the most basic human being in the room...
once again, jus like me fr