None of us understand what we’re doing but we do beautiful things anyway.
Allen Ginsberg, The Letters of Allen Ginsberg (via wordsnquotes)
Mike Driver
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Not today Justin
taylor price

Discoholic 🪩

@theartofmadeline

izzy's playlists!
styofa doing anything

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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
noise dept.
tumblr dot com

Origami Around
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Xuebing Du
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trying on a metaphor

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@eulalie-rose
None of us understand what we’re doing but we do beautiful things anyway.
Allen Ginsberg, The Letters of Allen Ginsberg (via wordsnquotes)
Too proud to say I’m lonely.
A Six Word Story (via eulalie-rose)
I had a panic attack over my 25 pg research paper so I drank a bottle of wine.
Well, I got rid of that creative writing bug by writing two and a half pages of Something New. Here's hoping I can get on that critical essay before dark :/
I've got my writing hat on but not the one I need. Stupid researched critical essay.
So I've been watching You're the Worst, which is a drama/comedy about people with serious issues: PTSD, depression, abandonment issues, and downright insanity. Somehow, in the end, the writers find a way to make the show endearing to audiences, and they make them laugh. They deal with really heavy issues, but the comedy in it isn't making fun of these issues, making them seem any less serious than they are, or anything like that. If any of that makes any sense. I'm writing that to write this. How do you write a plot-driven teen LGBTQ story with a happy ending? I want my characters to be normal, for my side characters to be the understanding crowd, and for everyone's parents to love them. But I don't want to tie everything up with everyone walking into the sunset together and pretend like there still isn't prejudice. I want to have a message of tolerance without being preachy. Maybe I'm afraid of dealing with the heavy shit, idk. I just want to write a good story about LGBTQ teens that doesn't end with someone committing suicide or getting kicked out onto the streets. This is my struggle.
REBLOG IF YOU ARE A WRITER ON TUMBLR
IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT KIND OF WRITER YOU ARE YOU CAN BE WRITING: POEMS, FANFICS, IDK NORMAL FICS, NOVELS, SHORT STORIES, IDK ANYTHING!! JUST REBLOG!!!
I never would have thought that a tiny little poem I wrote while drunk at 3 am would have gotten this many notes. Thank you all.
Too proud to say I’m lonely.
A Six Word Story
To Not Be Afraid I want to not be afraid to own my sexuality. I want to not be afraid to tell them. I want to not be afraid to call her my girlfriend and I want to not be afraid to say that I love her. I want my sister, when someone asks "Why is your 25 year old sister still single?" to not be afraid to say, "She's waiting on the right woman," not the right man. I want my parents to not be afraid to show off my future wedding pictures on Facebook, telling everyone how wonderful my marriage is; how beautiful our family is. I want my future children to not be afraid to tell their friends about their two mommies, who already love them more than anything. I want to not be afraid of love. I want to not be afraid to introduce her to my grandparents, my aunts, my uncles, my coworkers, my friends. I want to not be afraid of people who clearly do not believe in love, because I am not afraid of love.
Eulalie Rose
I added on to my six word poem.
I kind of, really, like you.
e.u., texts I’ll never send
My head hurts and I'm watching four boys at work.
Hemingway is a writing checker that is absolutely brilliant.
checks all spellings for you
checks if you’re over-using adverbs
picks out over-complicated sentences
suggests replacements for over-complicated phrases
picks out the passive voice
tells you how readable your text is (Grades/College level/etc)
calculates reading time
USE IT. USE IT FOR YOUR FANFICS. USE IT FOR YOUR PAPERS. IT WILL SAVE. YOUR. LIFE.
About once every six months I start to think about you. I think about the summer that we met, when your mother was helping me and my mother paint a bedroom in our house. I think about how we used to drive around, aimlessly, wasting gas. I think about how we used to watch movies until 1 in the morning, talk until 3, and I think about how mad my mom used to get when we would do that. And I smile when I think about the time you let me drive your beloved car. I think about how just being with you held me together when I was falling apart. You filled the void that was left by so many. You were the reason for so many things in my life. We hung out in comfortable silence for most of the time, and we were both okay with that. We didn't have to say much to understand each other. I loved that about us. I also think about the December when we started growing apart. I remember my birthday when you barely spoke a word to me, even though it was the big kahuna; the big One Eight. I think about how much I wanted to ask what the big deal was. I think about how you treated me after I did, and how stupid I felt for speaking up. I was barely 18. You were 22. What was I thinking? What were our parents thinking? And what else would you expect from someone so grossly under qualified to be your girlfriend? I will regret a lot of things in my life, but I will regret nothing more than I regret what I did to you. I deserved every word you said about me to your brother. I was immature and stupid. It's been nearly three years. And now all I want to say is that I'm sorry.
Eulalie Rose, I Hope One Day You Read This