We were six and fearless. We ran around the garden conquering all the “bad guys,” chasing away all the “monsters” that lurked around in our imagination land. Untouched by evil, sheltered by love, we laughed innocently and pure heartedly. Little did we know that as soon as our mom’s left that the monster’s we slayed in the garden was nothing compared to the one they were leaving us with. He was her dad. 

The door shut behind our moms, and the shadows consumed the room. He stood there in front of us, signaling to follow him into the room where he slowly slid off our dresses, the dresses that had had made us feel like princesses earlier that day. 

Demons crept from the shadows of the bedrooms and consumed our entirety. We were captives waiting to be rescued by our knights in shining amor except, no one assumed little princesses would be damsels in distress, so no one came. 

His calloused hands gripped themselves around my face. “Don’t tell your Mommy” he said, “It’ll be our three’s little secret.” 

Six and fearless was no longer valid in the equation of our fairytale. Our story never made it to the books. Our story is full of empty cries and blank pages. The mystery of the monster that stole away the most priceless good any little princess could own. 

No happy endings, no knight in shining amor, just a piece of a forgotten past for the poor little princesses. 

When you stretch and your inner porn star moan comes out by accident

(Source: nikolawashere)

goblinparty:

I’m constantly torn between the ‘be kind to everyone’ and the ‘fuck everyone you owe them nothing’ mentalities