escapistsduplicity

[escapistsduplicity]

Thank you, I love you, I am grateful for you and all that you have built and given (and still give, unconditionally) for us.

Happy Mother’s Day, to the woman I admire above all others.

My beautiful, intelligent, and kind-hearted mama.

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It only took two glasses.

2 glasses deep and I am drunk on wine at the airport. Is this adulthood? Is this what my parents did on the sly while I was a child or before I was born? Is this luxury or normalcy? Not sure, but thinking about it now I'm fairly certain this is my first time getting drunk at the airport. I suppose now I can call myself a real American? Is this an American thing? Or do people get drunk at airports globally? Brb heading to Google to find some goddamn answers.

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He’s too pure for this world. (via Beavs)

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Favorite Halloween costume to date:

When senior year Ali & Anisha officially stopped giving any fucks, and dressed up as Bros to a Halloween fraternity exchange. 

Only the wisest and the dopest of the real bros were impressed by our little joke. Everyone else was kind of annoyed...which was exactly what we were hoping for.

(P.S. One hand had ‘DGAF’ sharpie-tattooed on the fingers, and the other had ‘YOLO.’ Remember when people actually said those things? Ah, good ol’ 2011.)

You’re not broing hard enough.

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This will always be my favorite picture of my father, aka, the original hipster.

Happy birthday, bud.

(I love you, etc)

(etc)

(etc)

Yup, that’s my dad as an undergraduate.

My favorite part, the post-it note on his lapel that reads “English Major”

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There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming.

Shauna Niequiest, on life in your twenties in Bittersweet (via theblessedunrestblog)

Yes yes yes (yes yes yes yes) ... Yes.

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*sticks my leg in the air* give me attention

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Remembering this aches a little, but I am grateful.

Creaking wooden dock, silken summer sky

And the words rushed out before you could

catch them with a filter

and toss them in a corner

to be disposed of in the morning.

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just a little longer, my love.

what is softer than your silence at the close

of another reunion, at the start

of another separation?

your cheek, your lips, your breath against my neck.

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Repeat it like a mantra: blood is not the end. It is the link between us, it is the life we are given, it is the sacrifice of our mothers. It hurts, I know. Just breathe and I will hold your hand. I am here. Always.

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We are fools when it comes to ourselves. It was overcast and we met at a high-ceilinged pub in an unfamiliar beach town. The last time we saw each other was in an old wooden house ankle-deep in snow, where we drank tequila out of the bottle before rushing to a bar filled with arcade games and boys in polo shirts. It’s been two years, and I’ve missed you. I won’t go into what has changed since then, because the answer would be meaningless (everything). We talk for over three hours, and at times it feels like the most intimate of friendships and at others, like we are academics learning and breaking down the laws of each other. The space between us creates perspective, but our intimacy (untouched by distance, time) allows us to share it. We are aware that what we say may hurt, but…we have always been honest with each other. I look you in the eyes when I tell you that you’re lying to yourself. You call me two days later and tell me I was right.

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Wait I didn't realize someone was recording our recent jam sesh?? (@Jaimie, Josh, Zuway)

THIS IS REAL MUSIC PEOPLE

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*fans self*

trying to flirt like

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This is basically me and YC anytime I go out bahaha

Korean mother tries to teach young daughter about “Stranger Danger” cuteness ensues.

> that little shoulder shake at 0:11 “aww yeah let’s get some ice cream!”

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calm in the middle, chaos in the rim

It’s like just now, at this moment I am finally emerging from the rim of a hurricane. I’m all open wounds--mangled and sore and I only managed to hold on to my heart by a sliver of soft muscle before it was completely torn out of my chest. Now I’m bleeding and raw and my eyes are swollen but I feel so full. So joyful and lucky and hurt and vulnerable and loved. 

So much noise and shattered glass all at once. Why does everything break at the same time?

--

I’m sorry and I miss you and I’m grateful that it was peaceful and that my father could be there. 

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Thank you for chasing away all that sticky saltwater with laughter and warm conversation and intimacy. To feel supported and a part of something loving and strong is a treasure, and I truly treasure you.

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I love you and don’t want to break what we’ve built and even though I deserve nothing but doubt and bitterness please choose to stay because if I’ve learned anything from this storm it’s that I was wrong and you are the strong one and I need you I need you I need you. 

[escapistsduplicity]

She whispers love poems and his mother’s name, presses hope into open wounds.