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they should invent a grief that doesn’t define you in new and strange ways for the rest of your life

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Photo-Series by Bogdan Gîrbovan About How Different People Live In Identical Apartments

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i do think it's so fun that there's a limit to the maximum size of a structure that your mind can conceive of before your imagination starts glitching and struggling to fully render it like an overloaded processor machine. your imagination is only limitless if it stays within the dimensional guidelines encoded into it. and needless to say the one i can imagine is bigger than any of you losers could ever hope to dream of.

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the overwhelming feeling of sadness sometimes when someone treats me with kindness

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My friends and I used to do this thing where we'd dress up on a theme and go do something totally normal.

We dressed up as pirates and went bowling.

We dressed as vikings and went to the grocery store. The security guard told us we had to move our longship because it was illegally parked.

We dressed as Romans and went to Blockbuster. The staff chanted, "toga! Toga! Toga!" at us.

We dressed up all steampunk and went to the museum. Tourists kept taking our picture.

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Incredible south pole aurora of Saturn

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Fenton Johnson (1888-1958), ‘Tired’, from “The Book of American Negro Poetry” ed. by James Weldon Johnson, 1922

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one of my favorite poem titles 

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Langston Hughes (1902-1967), ‘Teacher’, 1926

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Langston Hughes (1902-1967), ‘Tired’, “New Masses”, Vol. 6, #9, Feb. 1931 Source

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The Strawberry Poem by Keaton St. James

(patreon)

[ID: poem titled ‘The Strawberry Poem’ reading,

“i tell myself that once i make it to tomorrow, i will get up with the gold glow of the sun, tighten my scarf against the restless cold, & walk to the nearest grocery store. i will buy the biggest box of strawberries i can find, sit on my kitchen floor, eat them with my hands all in one shot.                                                      like a child or like god, i will stain some things red on accident. & still the foam-mouthed seas will churn under the gaze of the moon, & cardinals with snow- brushed wings will nestle themselves into pine branches the way a heart nestles itself into the ribs, & still i will have my laughter, yes, even when pain fills up my pockets like stones.                                                      but isn’t that the miracle? i was close enough to the river to kiss it, & i went home anyway. home, where it is so easy to spill sugar on the counter, drop tea leaves on the floor, forget splinters of cinnamon sticks & find them later behind the kettle, your mess the proof that you were not a ghost here but a body, solid & awake & true. home, where it is                                                     so easy to make a big joy from a small strawberry, to hold that sweet- ness in your mouth, its red as bright as wanting. its red that says, & how much more joy can we hold in another year, another decade, a whole recklessly beautiful life?”

/end ID]

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when youre nice to me this is who youre being nice to *picture of an evil dracula*

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"kill them with kindness" WRONG. chair attack 🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑

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remembering that octopus brains are donut shaped cause their esophagus goes thru the middle of their head and sometimes they die from brain damage from meal too big, and saying a long prayer before bed every night that if something like that happens to me i will be able to handle it gracefully

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— Nicole Lyons

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Maggie Stiefvater, Shiver