shredsfists

[shredsfists]

been thinking a lot about abandoned blogs and websites. the internet as a living and ever-evolving biome and also a host for all the husks left behind. i want to gather them all up and give them a proper burial and mourning.

[shredsfists]

ok im tired of the self depreciation. reblog with something you like about yourself. or else

[shredsfists]

this is my favorite genre of post

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[shredsfists]

the new front bottoms song "outlook" is so pynch coded

[shredsfists]

i think love is precious because love is intentional and about sacrifice of the self.

[shredsfists]

and i am running through the train station again, screaming your name, heart pounding in my chest, feet pounding the pavement, and i am running running running

and you're already gone

[shredsfists]

10 more days til the dreamer trilogy is completed bless

[shredsfists]

after lunch 💋🚘

[shredsfists]

i'm so down bad for them i'm posting tik tok trends 😩 end me

[shredsfists]

been thinking abt it and i headcanon cas as a lesbian trans woman bc it just makes sense in my mind

[shredsfists]

i just,, love him so much :')

[shredsfists]

humans build humans, example:

the reason why i leave the top two loops of my doc martens unlaced is because my friend (who lives in chicago) sent me (who lives in texas) a tik tok video of a person who said they do the same thing because they saw fanart of ronan lynch from the raven cycle (my favorite book series) where the artist had drawn ronan with his top two loops unlaced and so i've been doing it for the past year now

it's nice, sometimes, to be able to trace the origins

[shredsfists]

to be observed is for someone to try to understand you and love is the trying to understand

observing understanding loving

they are linked and they are the same color in different shades

[shredsfists]

you know how you wake up, but aren't aware. somewhere between when you first open your eyes and when you turn over. how i wish to stay in that in between. oblivious to the fact that you're not here. content to be by myself. nothing to want. nothing to give.

[shredsfists]

i always want to write about love. when i hold my friend's hand while we cross the street, just like my mom used to do, it feels like a poem. when i walk on my sister's back to help soothe the ache, i can feel the words coming together. when i tell my mom i'm proud of her. i think she could use the reminder. when i bring an extra orange for my friend. they're his favorite. when i write a poem about how my dad's love has kept me alive, i know it is the only thing worth writing about. that these thousands of tiny kindnesses are all that matters. i always want to write about love, because i need everyone to know that it matters. and that every time you have ever loved, you mattered. you mattered.

when i say love is in the air we breathe - parrish h.

[shredsfists]

look, i'm not an expert on human connection and how we're all made up of each other, but what i will say is i can pinpoint the exact moment i heard mae for the first time and how i was sitting in my step-mom's first car (which she later switched out for a van) and was rifling through her old mp3 player and she told me how she used to listen to them in high school so i plugged it to the car and we listened together on the way home. i still listen to their music and i may be an individual but i'm beginning to think there is no such thing as the individual experience because isn't each moment saturated in someone else?

did your father not hold you as you got your ears pierced for the first time and now whenever you change your earrings out you think of the silly faces he made as you sobbed? did your grandmother not grow bamboo on her front porch and now you think of her whenever you visit the pandas at the zoo?

are we not colored and shaded in by the people around us? our anger, our joy, our sadness? were they not shaped by the people around us? my father's pride became my own and is that not still my own?

i wouldn't be myself without you.