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I looked up at the sky. The sun was just about to set, making the sky a smear of orange, pink, and blue. There’s too much light pollution in New York to be able to see the stars, something like “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” Today my dilemma was “If I can’t see the light of those stars, are they still there?” It might make me a hopeless romantic but I always thought that the stars were like the souls of the dead. Just because you can’t see the light of those souls, they must still be there. I knew Emma, who was sitting next to me would say otherwise. She would say that the light that we see from stars are already dead. That after the light travels all the way so we can see it, the star has already faded. I would counter that the whole “dead” star thing further supports my theory about star souls.  

Emma and I were sat on top of the roof of her apartment building. Books and board games were strewn around us on top of one my old blankets, the one with the litter of kittens on it. Emma and I went up here every weekend, it became an unspoken tradition between us. It was one of those unusually warm November days, one that made Emma rant about climate change again, but I kind of just tuned her out. Her building wasn’t a very tall one so if you look straight ahead all you’ll see is a brick building and a billboard for Subway, but we were all about the vertical view, which we both found was greatly underappreciated 

We were sitting on the blanket, sipping on lukewarm lemonade, looking down at the bustling street below us. The cars were stuck in a traffic jam, looking like an unhappy, slow moving conga line. A saxophone player seemed lost in his own world, smoothly playing a brassy jazz, a hat in front of him. Honks and shouts were heard in between the song and a couple of people dropped dollar bills into his fedora. Pedestrians on their phones weaved in and out of all the obstacles that came with New York. Street vendors lined the streets, making the air smell faintly of sauerkraut and hotdogs. Above us, the starless sky. Emma finally finished her climate change rant and we laid down, feeling the soft blanket and the hard concrete underneath it. Looking up, Emma started to show me where the stars and constellations would have been and I fell asleep dreaming of the stars that are not seen.  

[sleepy-robot1-blog]

so i recently was retaking the house quiz on pottermore and for the first time i got slytherin (im usuallly a ravenclaw) and i was like what. how. um. it was like my entire identity was on the line and then i realized that i literally forced all of my friends to take the quiz just so we can compare and maybe i am a slytherin

[sleepy-robot1-blog]

Hogwarts Houses as Good Feeling Things

slytherin:

the crunch of a footstep in freshly fallen snow, putting together the prefect outfit and knowing you look your best, rooms with tall ceilings, perfect eyebrows, standing on balconies, pressed suits, zipping up tall boots

gryffindor:

running out into a rainstorm just to get soaked, dancing to loud music with your best friend, running to clear your mind after a bad day, getting a haircut and feeling light and free, taking a breath of fresh air in the summer, skipping stones

ravenclaw:

setting up your bed as the perfect Netflix fort, the he loves me he loves me not game, perfect long nails with dark polish, crisp powdery pages, crackling fireplaces, writing until your hand cramps up, old castles 

hufflepuff:

getting a hug from that one person, p.j days at school, taking off make up at the end of the day, hiding in a hoodie, stacking up five blankets in the wintertime, telling someone you love them over and over, movies with friends

[sleepy-robot1-blog]

me trying to think of something to post