Why is it always the woman who has to see past the beast in the man? Why does she always have to clean his wounds, even after he has damaged her beyond repair? Why is it always the man who is worthy of forgiveness for being a monster?
I want to see the beast in the beauty.
The half smile, half snarl. The unapologetic anger. I would like to see the man forgive the monster. To see her, blood and all, and love her anyway.
Tag Archives: summer’s truths
that’s the thing about pain — —
it demands to be felt
{ ;;-Do { N O T } mistake my
kindnessfor w e a k n e s s }
just stay
awayand you’ℓℓ be safe
from m e
You { ᴀↄↄɘqᴛ } the ℓσνє you think you [ D E S E R V E ] ——
but that doesnotmean
you do not [ D E S E R V E ] the ℓσνє you are { ɢɪvɘᴎ}
But tell me
「 m y d a r l i n g 」
could you ever
really lovea monster?
Because I am not the type of
person someone falls in love with.


