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Look at this purebread puppy

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I won’t glorify or romanticize heartbreak. For me, it was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living.

~ Warsan Shire

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““I pity the woman who will love you when I am done. She will show up to your first date with a dustpan and broom, ready to pick up all the pieces I left you in. She will hear my name so often it will begin to dig holes in her. That is where doubt will grow. She will look at your neck, your thin hips, your mouth, wondering at the way I touched you. She will make you all the promises I did and some I never could. She will hear only the terrible stories. How I drank. How I lied. She will wonder (as I have) how someone as wonderful as you could love a monster like the woman who came before her. Still, she will compete with my ghost. She will understand why you do not look in the back of closets. Why you are afraid of what’s under the bed. She will know every corner of you is haunted by me.””

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Clementine von Radics

I am on a serious Clementine kick and this one punched me right in the face.

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“I read that sometimes when someone receives a heart transplant, the heart, on a cellular level, still has memories of its first home. People suddenly remember directions to places they have never been. They can suddenly play the piano. One man dreamed of his donor’s death. His body, now fluent in a new language. And I wonder what my own body will remember even after it has been asked to forget. If when I die, if when my body is sectioned up, half given to the dirt and half given a new purpose, I wonder, if some stranger with my memories will suddenly begin to jolt awake in the middle of the night. Sitting up, her arm outstretched, somehow knowing She is still reaching for your face.”

— The Body’s Memory, Clementine von Radics

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“THE DIFFERENCE Between being loved and being fucked is I can’t remember how the first feels. I have a body like an open door. I have a body like an open hand. It is too easy to hold me. Find me a boy with a heart more hopeful than spun sugar on a hot day; I will teach him to render me meaningless. The whole time, every moment, wishing he’d crack me open, rib by rib, to see how I work. How I bleed.”

— Clementine Von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers

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“I am not the first person you loved. You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers. We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin. Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night. Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come. I think that has to be part of its miracle.”

— Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers

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“You never need to apologize for how you chose to survive.”

— Clementine von Radics

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“This is the house that built me and I’m gonna burn it down. This is the river I crawled from and I refuse to drown here. And bless the strippers but fuck the men. And bless the berries but fuck the farm. And bless the daughter but fuck the family. What is a home if not the first place you learn to run from? You’ve got to bite the hand that starves you, and in doing so Praise the place that birthed you. Birthed you fucked up. Birthed you ugly, and interesting, and ready to scream.”

— Courtney Love Prays To Oregon, Clementine von Radics

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“When I imagine myself I am barely there.”

— Clementine von Radics, “Sweet the Sound” from Dream Girl

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Last one.

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