It’s not like I’m a slut or that I really like to fuck.
I just want every boy I meet to walk away with part of me until there’s nothing left to hold, until there’s nothing left to hate.
I appreciate your help but even you can’t save me from myself.
White people who try to call out white privilege, while also being privileged themselves, are really fucking annoying.
Everything is about a boy…
It seems like the only times I’m truly inspired to write on this blog are in the middle of the night when I’m retracing every inch of contact with someone I like. Apparently that is the only relevant thing in my life, to me.
Noticing this pattern, I’m trying really hard to create other interesting moments, to take up my free time, to try to figure out how to be a real adult. It. Is. HARD. Like, I’m not going to say this is the hardest thing I’ve done in my life, because it’s not that bone-breaking, white knuckle moment where everything changes or something. No one will film a documentary of my life and have this time period be the part where they cue the music style change. But it is hard ok. It’s like being sick constantly is hard, or working out consistently is hard, or breaking a bad habit is hard. It’s not a blind jump over the cliff, it’s a very slow descent down the side with eyes wide open. Apples to oranges, ya dig?
All this being said, I can’t help but have my little obsessions. Every time he opens a snapchat and doesn’t text me back. Every day that I text him first instead of him texting me. Every time he doesn’t ask me to hang out when he’s in town. I don’t know, technology sucks mostly. It’s too easy to convince yourself that you’re not their favorite. And like, honestly, you’re probably not because that would be insane, given the amount of time you’ve known each other. But you don’t consider it insane, because you just might say they’re your favorite. What is wrong with you? Pull it together, ya needy nancy.
Mostly, what I mean is that I’m going to try to write some stuff on here about like goals and shit, or funny shit, or shitty shit, but just other shit. And still dude stuff. Because it doesn’t go away. But I’m trying to water it down, so I remember I’ve got a life that’s relevant outside of dick. Cool.
We all know that shit is bad, and health is not why we eat it. We eat it because it tastes like dreams and affection and a warm blanket on a cold night and makes us temporarily forget that we have to go wander under the oppressive fluorescent lighting of Pottery Barn for two hours to help a friend do her wedding registry.
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7 Stupid Questions We Need To Stop Asking |
How To Fall
To fall so quickly…
Is it because we can feel how much love we lack
That the simplest gesture of kindness might draw us back in?
Yes and no. Yes a thousand times, no just once.
Isn’t this how these kinds of things are supposed to go?
No controlled measured pace, but a torrent of emotions to lose yourself in.
Every book speaks of these moments;
Fragmented into future lives, little glimpses of yourself.
But we are taught to ignore, to test, to try, to prove.
I refuse. Because you are much more beautiful than all that.
This openness is terrifying. Truly.
The monument of a scream building in the background as we walk towards, over, off the precipice;
Is this not what we long for
The most beautiful of deaths is the death of self.
Guys. Guys. Guys. Hey guys. GUYS.
I met this guy downtown and I decided to actually talk to him instead of just giving him my number and ignoring his texts and he seems pretty normal and nice and not like a creep or a serial killer which is awesome.
Also we might’ve had sex in the back of my car after I hit my face on my car door because I’m clumsy as fuck all and I think I like him and I want to pretend I don’t because it seems stupid but fuck it this is fun.
To make you feel better about those two awesome run on sentences, I’ve included a picture of a koala.
PS: GO OVER TO HANNAHISMS PAGE AND FLOOD HER QUESTION BOX WITH LOVE BECAUSE SHE IS A COLLEGE GRADUATE TODAY OK???
