A Map With No Compass @amapwithoutacompass - Tumblr Blog

Do You Think Your Teeth Are Controlling You When You Brush Them?

You have to brush your teeth. It's hard, sure. It's a lot of work, getting up every morning and doing that. It's unfun maintenance. It takes time and energy you just don't have, after all. It's a problem that can be brought up later, actually. You don't *have* to do it. You just don't have the time.

Oh, a tooth is rotting out. Well, okay, pull it. You don't have the time and energy to deal with that tooth. Just pull it. People pull bad teeth all the time, it's really what's best. But obviously you still don't have the time to deal with brushing your teeth. That couple of minutes in the morning is just more than you can deal with.

Oh, another tooth is rotting out. Well, that's okay, pull that one too. After all, your dad had no teeth, and he turned out just fine. He doesn't brush his teeth, and he knows what it's like to be forced to do that, so it's really best to just listen.

Oh, another tooth is rotting out. This one is clearly badly infected, and needs to go. Just pull it. Oh, actually, the infection has spread pretty badly. It's not that simple. Well, it's fine, just pull it and move on. It'll work itself out.

Oh, another tooth is rotting out. It's not infected, but the infection from before is clearly affecting it. Well, who cares, time to pull it too. Gotta learn to catch these things early, before they hurt me too badly.

Why do teeth need so much maintenance? Really they are badly designed if they need so much focus. What are they even good for? All they do is take up my time and energy, and I end up always at the dentist. Well, who cares, I'll just pull them as they act up, I don't have time for all this.

People keep telling me I need to brush my teeth, but let's be honest, there's no way that's healthy. Tons of YouTube videos will tell me why I shouldn't give in to that. That's so much time and effort, it's weird that anyone would let something control them like that.

Why does everyone have teeth and I don't? What's wrong with me?

Like A Dog

They say that a good woman is like a dog.

Loyal,

Soft,

And always happy to see you.

But what of the man

Who is supposed to love her?

To love a dog is to love genuinely,

To allow mistakes

To love with forgiveness

To love a dog is to love the frustration

The sleepless nights

The whines and whimpers

And it is to learn to handle everything with grace

When I tell him

“Treat me like you treat your dog”

It is not an insult

Or a degradation

It’s a hope,

A wish,

A request

Because a dog will love you no matter what you do.

To love a dog is to let another trust you. A good woman is just like a good dog.

I lay with you on a soft spring night

And you pull me closer to you

With your arms wrapped around me

And I feel like I'm in heaven

I feel like nothing can top this moment

But you look down

And gaze into my eyes

And I hope

And pray

And beg any God listening

That you'll tell me you love me

But you don't.

You give me a small kiss on my forehead, and that's good enough for now

How do I know I love you? It's an easy feeling to misread. It could be limerance, or lust, or any other number of things.

It's not just the warmth of your skin, or the way you touch me, or the fact that you feel like home.

It's not just our little breakfasts, with the way you make your eggs so perfectly cheesy.

It's not just the genuninity in your eyes when you come to me, asking to be held, or the fact that you sink into my touch.

It's not just the calm I feel, or the way I leave you, feeling not anxious, or sad, but able to conquer the world on my own.

It's not just the joy I felt at your good news, not for my own desires, but because I knew you might be free.

But at my most vulnerable, at my truest self, a self I had never truly seen myself, you gave me no judgement, no fear, no worry, no anger. You did not idealize who I might be, but saw who I was.

You looked into my soul, and let my soul look back.

#poetry #poem

As I lay entwined with you,

I feel your warmth flow over me

Like the rays of sun on

A slow Sunday afternoon,

And I look into your eyes,

and see a soft glimmer,

A longing for understanding

And acceptance.

A look I know all too well

As it shines though my eyes as well.

I run my fingers through your hair

And ponder how you can be so different, but so close to the same.

But I am home again after a long day out,

And that makes it all worth it.

"People in cities don't worry about light pollution because they have already created the stars on the ground"

As you crest a hill

From the country into the city,

The stars begin to die out, but you see the lights.

The little speckles of hope

Emitting from every home,

And tower,

And shop, and car.

But you wonder:

"Why would anyone live here? After all, they can never see the stars."

So you ask.

And his eyes light up, just like those little specks.

And he says "because we created the stars on the ground"

And suddenly you get it.

#cute game store guy

aussie-twat

A post about missing home and moving on.

@itsashlyperez post / Circe by Madeline Miller / spookyrich / comic by @shhhitsfine / post by @fairycosmos / The Office S9 Ep 23 / unknown, please tag author / my photo, IKEA review / unknown, please tag author /Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

A post about missing home and moving on.

amapwithoutacompass

Something I love, that I've always loved, is that I've always known the memories I'd have when I made them. And I know now, laying in bed at 2pm with small rays of light escaping past the curtains, that I'm still making those memories. "The good old days" are not behind me. They are then, they are now, they are ahead of me. Sitting in a falafel shop in San Francisco at closing time is not a feeling lost to time. Baking bread in a tiny kitchen in a new apron is not a feeling left to a younger me. A night looking out the windows at Christmas lights, or a day spent in a too fancy outfit in a place I didn't quite belong are not feelings I ever have to leave behind. Evenings sat eating on an empty kitchen floor, and nights sat on the couch chewing on a discussion about the finer differences between this and that.

We are always at some point in the past because time moves forward, and I cannot miss what I am still experiencing.

Why is nothing I do every fucking good enough. Ever. No matter how hard I fucking try

I'm drinking and 6 sad

please just let me have my fucking privacy for once and let me vent

days like this are the days that make me just want to die

i have to work so i cant stay up literally all night every night so some other fucking girl gets what i need. some girl who was admittedly just filing the hole i apparently left.

but its the end of the fucking world when i even hint at wanting it