But tell me now, where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart?
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I think this image is self explanatory ;b
Fun fact! Out of the twins, I head cannon Llydia to be the more competitive of the two. Llyria would much rather watch and judge her sister than waste energy on being competitive.
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moderation is not a friend of mine
i have never known nonchalance, never had a taste for lukewarm or half-baked; i like my music roaring and my mornings silent, my goals exceeded and ambiguity exiled, my heart loved or left alone.
in other words, if you are looking to tiptoe on the cusp of connection, if apathy is a part of your plan, i am not for you -
because i would rather be uprooted than planted in middle ground; because i cannot, will not, produce something halfhearted from a heart that loves wholly, or not at all.
forgive me, i can only offer you everything.
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pretty trans ppls snacks n monsters should be free
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What’s the saying- Do as I say, not as I do.
… I’m trying to get better. I think I’m doing well enough. But I don’t want to see you go down the same road I did. -M
You're doing great, Marvin. I mean that, genuinely.
I'll be fine.
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When I love, I love with my whole heart. I guess you couldn’t see that or wanted to care enough.
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I love the people in my world so damn much. How lucky I am, truly, how amazing it is that I am alive when they are and growing alongside and loving and supporting these amazing people!! Just!!!!! I am truly the luckiest person ever!!!!!!
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I am making a callout post on my tumblr dot com,
i hate you texas education, i hate you "genetically female/male", i hate you "born female/male", i hate you school system, i hate you "system name", and i hate you terfs.
That said,
I love you chosen name, i love you "what are you pronouns", i love you friends, and i love you teachers-who-are-allies.
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There are so many famous poems about how the abstraction of language can never compare to the concrete nature of something, whether that something is “tree” or “love.” In other words, the word “tree” will always be a skimpy, ghost simulacrum of the actual tree itself.
I don’t know how many poems I’ve read about how writing about lovemaking will never compare to the act itself, and on principle, I agree. But man it’s making me realize how crappy my past lovers were because I keep thinking “why is this random fanfic I’m reading at eleven p.m. more erotic and moving than anything we ever did together??” 😭
I want to give writing its power back. Language can be immensely soulful, erotic, and passionate. I can remember some lines of my favorite poems better than moments in the bedroom.
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Spot the difference (extremely hard edition)
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