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Origami Around
will byers stan first human second
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

blake kathryn

Product Placement

shark vs the universe
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Love Begins

#extradirty

if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
ojovivo
RMH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
noise dept.
macklin celebrini has autism
official daine visual archive
Cosimo Galluzzi
art blog(derogatory)
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@engravedbones
Sex is when im in your head and youre in mine
Private Parts by Sarah Kay
The first love of my life never saw me naked: there was always a parent coming home in half an hour,
always a little brother in the next room. Always too much body and not enough time for me to show it. Instead, I gave him my shoulder, my elbow, the bend of my knee -I lent him my corners, my edges, the parts of me I could afford to offer - the parts I had long since given up trying to hide. He never asked for more. He gave me back his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms - we held each piece we were given like it was a nectarine that could bruise if we weren’t careful. We collected them like we were trying to build an orchid. And the spaces that he never saw, the ones my parents half labeled “private parts” when I was still small enough to fit all of myself and my worries inside a bathtub - I made up for that by handing over all the private parts of me. There was no secret I didn’t tell him, there was no moment I didn’t share - and we didn’t grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping, moulding each other into perfect yings and yangs. We kissed with mouths open, breathing his exhale into my inhale - we could have survived underwater or outer space. Breathing only of the breathe we traded, we spelled love, g-i-v-e, I never wanted to hide my body from him - if I could have I would have given it all away with the rest of me - I did not know it was possible. To save some thing for myself. Some nights I wake up knowing he is anxious, he is across the world in another woman’s arms - the years have spread us like dandelion seeds - sanding down the edges of our jigsaw parts that used to only fit each other. He drinks from the pitcher on the night stand, checks the digital clock, it is 5am - he tosses in sheets and tries to settle, I wait for him to sleep. Before tucking myself into elbows and knees reach for things I have long since given up.
This is a submission, thank you so much!!
ok. enough suffering now. i am seeking out delight
i'm going to listen to the album of the artist you like even though he's not really my vibe. i'm going to read the book you suggested even though it's not a genre i usually enjoy. i'll watch the show. i will try the recipe. i will play the video game, or at least watch a deep-dive youtube explaining the really-long lore so i have some idea of what's happening. the movie you suggested is too scary for me, but - i mean, the wikipedia page is kind of interesting - look at the length of the section Controversy.
this is not a burden. i think maybe "burden" and "love" might be oppositional, the way sometimes "love" and "hate" are not opposites. a burden is a dragging. i love you because you brought me to the water, and it is the horizon of your heart. i love you because of your nervous pacing around the edges of the rabbit hole.
often you are right. some songs on that album remind me of the spark in your eyes. the book was really thought-provoking.
more i just want to understand enough that you can talk to me. that you can explain, in depth, why it matters that wheat has shallow roots. i love you, even platonically - your love of this thing leaks into me. i watch you, cautious and dancing, the shy desire for you to smear the colors of this thing into my life, too.
they are your colors, though. of course i want them here, in the marginalia of my life. you matter to me. i want them to crowd the little moments of my day. i want your fingerprints scattered throughout the rooms of my heart.
one time i spent about six months reading and researching a particular author, just so i could talk to one of my friends about him. i never got the chance. she betrayed me, broke my trust, and sided with her abusive ex-boyfriend. standing in the sodden floodplain of what she left over, some bitter part of me asked - isn't that tragic? you have all this knowledge and nothing to do with it.
but i did have all that knowledge, though. when i reach for it, i still feel it glow.
web weave finds that made me want to claw my eyes out
My problem is that I have betrayed everything that I am for phone in bed
when i was younger and stupid and in the (glass) closet i was dating the son of a pharmacologist. this man had made millions developing medications. he was fond of me and privately told me i was too funny and smart to be dating boys.
he also said that it was incredibly unlikely that sexism will ever be resolved in the medical field. that the majority of medications i will ever take - even some of which are "for women" - will not be clinically tested on my body.
the problem, he said, was in getting any human clinical trial approved. to test on a body with a uterus - any body, even elderly patients or those who have been sterilized - was often nigh-impossible, because the concern was that the test patient may, at any point, become pregnant. once/if the patient became pregnant, the study would not be about "the effects of New Medication on the body." instead, the trial would fail - the results would be "the effects of New Medication on a developing fetus/pregnant patient."
it was massively easier, he said, to just test without accounting for a uterus. that's how he phrased it - accounting for a uterus.
at the time, i remember him talking about the ethical implications of testing on a developing fetus; how such testing could theoretically bankrupt a company if a lawsuit was filed. he talked about informed consent and about how long it took for any legislation to be passed about this - that in 1993; the year i was born, it finally became illegal to outright exclude women and minorities from clinical trials.
i remember him shrugging. "that's not to say it doesn't happen," he said. my ears were ringing.
i was thinking about how every time i have been rushed to the ER, the first thing they have asked me is if i am pregnant. when i broke my wrist at 16 years old - despite never having had sex - they made me wait three hours for the test to come back negative before they gave me pain meds. the possibility of a child haunts my health.
how many people have died on the table because they were waiting for the pregnancy test before treatment. how many people have died on the table because they were pregnant, and the only thing we care about is the fetus.
it is hard to explain to other people, but it feels like some kind of strange ghost. our entire lives, we are supposed to "save" our bodies for our future partners. but really we are just saving the body for the future child, aren't we? that hovering future-almost that cartwheels around in a miasma. you can't get your tubes tied, what if you change your mind? think of the child you must have, eventually.
who cares about you and your actual safety. think about what you could be carrying.
thinking about summer ending always leaves me wondering how different life will be by the time next summer comes
in a parasocial relationship with My true self