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Where did everything go wrong again

Jakob Rudolph

cryptid-radio-deactivated201910

every semester, without fail, there’s some freshman who’s like “oh I never check my email lol” and i get worried for them, bc they’re going to miss some important email about a pop quiz or a test, or something and then fail. so if you’re a freshman reading this, CHECK YOUR EMAIL im not joking, professors will send you stuff via email that they’ll never mention in class. I’m in my email every hour on the hour before and after class. check that shit. put that app on ur phone, turn on notifs, go in and refresh every hour, check your spam, check your email

this has been a message from your concerned dad. check ur email, do well in school, i love you

desactived1010miky

bnmxfld

blossomfully

“I wanted to ask him: Did he think about me? Ever? Often? At all? And if he did, what did he think about? Was it my laugh? Or how I fidgeted when I was nervous? Was it my voice? Or my mouth, or my favourite song? Did he think about the way that I argued? The way that I closed up? And how, after it all, I always opened myself to him again? Did he think about the ways that I annoyed him? Like when I was proud and stubborn and cold? Did he wish that I would be different? Or did he shake his head and let it rest? I wanted to ask did he think about me? Because I thought about him. Frequently. Constantly. Because I thought about him more than he’d ever know.”

— Sue Zhao

I’m nostalgic for a time in my life when I wanted to die and I don’t know how to feel about it.

#personal

blossomfully

“The thought of him with her - of them together - embedded in each other’s arms like two jigsaw pieces - tore through me. I couldn’t stand it. I wondered how he spoke to her; whether he was gentle like he was with me; whether he listened to her stories and committed them to memory; whether he danced with her in the middle of the street; whether he knew about her dreams. I wondered if he thought of her while grocery shopping; wrote her love letters; whether she inspired him; whether she brought out the best in him and challenged him. I wondered whether she was brave; kind; compassionate. I wondered whether she made him happy. But… then again it was none of my business - none of my business who he kissed, or held - or laughed with - or spun round in the streets - or woke up next too - or had feelings for - or made memories with - or loved. It was none of my business who he loved. And it killed me. It really did.”

— Sue Zhao