You kiss me in the way I like and your eyes crinkle the right way and our hands fit together, but other than that we are all wrong. We argue (discuss) all the time to deal with how your musical taste is terrible (or is mine) and with much more serious topics. I tell you everything, you tell me nothing. I flow, I experience, I express, and you stand steadfast and unopened. Me, waiting for a broken drawbridge to come down and let me to the other side.
I tried to tell you once, I don’t just feel one thing about you. I feel everything, every feeling I could possibly feel about you, and that for me, that is love, and you asked how many feelings that was and I said infinite. You said you could only think of 10.
I once mentioned that I cry every day and you seemed concerned, but I think you just didn’t understand. When you get to be as full as I am, you leak.
truths: you are a Girl, you are the Sea
The song comes on, made tinny and scratchy by the shower radio. He hums along and I belt it out, putting on my eye make-up while he massages his wet scalp.
"I hate this song," he remarks. He keeps talking, something about the bastardization of a noble genre. He’s pretentious when he talks about music. It’s cute. I tune it out.
I don’t even remember if I liked this song anymore, but I hear it and instantly I am in the arms of my friends, in one of the bars we used to frequent, cheap Heineken bathing my arms as people jump around carelessly. I ruined so much clothing there, but it was worth it. The feeling of being totally surrounded by love, supported by love, is worth it. Being able to look at the person next to you and have them smile and you smile and know, just know, that in this moment, all either of you can feel is exuberance and compassion, is worth it.
I smile at him once he’s done ranting. “Well I love it.”
The song comes on. I’m driving in my car. It’s early and I haven’t slept much. It’s only been a few weeks since my time in the canal city, but I am missing it. I know I have to be somewhere in 10 minutes, but when the song comes on, my eyes get hot with emotion and I realize that if I don’t want the water to pour down my face, I need to get to the water that reminds me of home. The song keeps playing.
I don’t think I’ve ever listened to the lyrics until this moment, which is funny. I mean I knew the lyrics, I loved the feeling of the words in my mouth, but I had never really listened to them, maybe because I didn’t need them until this moment. Words about loss and learning and acceptance. Words about what I felt when this song came on.
I call my friend and she doesn’t answer, so I leave her a message. Something about the song and how when it came on I thought of her and how we hadn’t realized how special our time together was, how none of us had realized it, not really. I must have sounded insane.
The song comes on and I am at a party, an American college party, the type that is supposed to be fun. I am with my friends, my American college friends, the type that are supposed to last me a lifetime. And I look to the person next to me and I smile and they smile, but it’s not the same. I am not endlessly supported. There is not color and warmth behind and in front of and around me, but rather a terse attachment between me and a few people that seems capable of breaking without much effort. I feel alone.
While I was there, I wanted to be back, wanted to get back to my “real life” and stop living in a fantasy, but perhaps the reason it didn’t feel real was that it was so good, I couldn’t accept it. I should have relished it while it lasted, because the chance to live in your fantasies doesn’t come around every day and a fantasy can’t last forever.
The song comes on and I am reminded of what might seem like regret, but is really understanding. The words don’t even matter, as fitting as they are. The beat, the melody, the chorus, the bridge, are all inconsequential. The song comes on and I remember what it is like to live in a world where someone loves you for the worst version of you and it pushes you to be the best.
I wish I lived in fictional new york, it sounds really easy to succeed there
Recently I’ve been paranoid about every little thing and feel like nothing is quite settled and every time I try to do or say something I worry about it being controversial.
I want to retreat for a while and set the slate clean and come back to school with a fresh perspective.
Sir Alanna of Pirate’s Swoop and Olau , born Alanna of Trebond
King’s Champion, Lady Knight, Baroness
I miss the wart on your finger and the smell of your soap and your laugh when you’re aroused but still can’t help being amused at my antics.
5 weeks is too long for me not to have you in my arms.
“No, I will not stop! For every minute for the rest of my life, I will fight.”
Never forget that 80% of Disney princesses will fuck you up with the right provocation.
#one time my science teacher said he didn’t like showing his daughter disney movies because they sent her the message that women need to be saved #and i told him that obviously we weren’t watching the same disney movies
Uh a lot of them are. Snow White, Cinderella, Pocahontas, tangled, the problematic Stockholm syndrome of beauty&the beast. Plus Pocahontas is so problematic for many other reasons.
Also lets talk about how Ariel literally gives up her voice in order to be with a man.
SHE GIVES UP HER ABILITY TO EXPRESS HER NEEDS AND IDEALS (WITHOUT LEARNING A FORM OF SIGN LANGUAGE, WHICH IS OF COURSE A FORM OF COMMUNICATION BUT IS NOT RELEVANT HERE) FOR A MAN.
THE PATRIARCHY STEALS HER VOICE.
AND WE’RE OKAY WITH IT.
So I genuinely don’t like Teen Wolf and I’ve tried watching it and just can’t get into it, yet for some reason Tumblr has gotten me so emotionally invested in Lydia Martin that I just watch episodes and click around until she’s in them.
Because Brown is the coolest, obviously.