Love Begins
Cosmic Funnies
Lauren Shippen
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
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d e v o n
Fai_Ryy
seen from Malaysia
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Taiwan
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@kreolemami
Jie Song
do not self-sabotage, the work to undo is never as fun as living a life you deserved and want
Don’t steal my idea but I need to write about how being 25 has come with the biggest life lesson. Also about how being a sheltered child is no excuse to be a sheltered and shy adult. Autonomy is real and it’s up to us to choose that and how we express it. You only get better with practice and an open minds
Decide what kind of life you really want and then say no to everything that isn't it.
Great things take time. Including the development process and elevation of you.
reeeeally been learning a lot about myself lately like oh. my life is actually just beginning
As an adult you must cultivate the skill of “Gross! Oh, well. Not my business.”
Applies to everything from BDSM parties to your sister’s godawful interior design choices to weird bachelor pad meals eaten over a sink.
Gross! Oh, well. Not my business.
local woman who claimed she will "cross that bridge when she comes to it" arrives at said bridge
reports are coming in that she is now burning said bridge
i am not my mother and i am not my father but a third worse thing
their daughter
When you that girl 💕✨
i know we’re both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what i’m saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when it’s raining. what i’m saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what i’m saying is that i’m here for you and if the train comes please move.
i wrote this 7 years ago, somehow. every day someone else finds it and whispers to me - oh, i understand this. something always turns in the wash of my stomach: i am so, so glad you feel seen. i wish you had no idea what this post was about.
i wrote this while working in a program for new writers. on wednesdays, two of the teachers would be contractually obligated to read our writing aloud to the group of 300+ teens. i had never read my work in public before. i had something like 6k poems and was panicking about it. none of them are good enough. sometimes the train is howling. it is hard, actually, sometimes, even as an adult.
and then i thought - what is one thing i wish i could tell all of them. each of these 300 kids. what did i need to hear, at 16?
i wanted to tell them about the day you wake up, and the sun feels warm finally. i wanted to tell them about carving a life out of soapstone, your hands turning bloody. i wanted to tell them that sometimes yes - it actually does feel easy. i wanted to tell them about weddings and cookie dough and long road trips. about albums of new music and old friends laughing and the sound of snow falling.
you will learn the pattern of the train. you will learn to close your eyes when you hear the engine rumbling. you will learn to let yourself have the grey days in their lily-soft numbness. sometimes it will feel like life is wet paint, and god has smeared your canvas across a sewer grate. sometimes it will be so boring it isn’t even pronounceable - the tenacious, soundless blankness. survival isn’t just ugly nights and wild mornings. it is also the steady, unimportant moments. it is just driving with your seatbelt on. it is calling a friend on the way home. it is burying your face into the fur of your dog.
when i had finished reading this poem aloud, the auditorium was silent for a solid minute. someone stood up to take a picture of where it had been projected onto a screen, and then three more people followed the action, and then - like a bad internet story, people remembered they were supposed to be clapping. kids came up to me after it - thank you for writing that. i think i hear a train coming.
i would write this differently now, i think, but it has been 7 years. i still live by the tracks. i also haven’t picked up a blade in over 10 years. the scars are still there, but these days i only pick up scissors to cut my hair. i know why you can’t tell your mom about it. i know how the numbness slips over everything, a restless horrible cotton. i know how when you dropped the dish, you weren’t crying about the broken glass. i know about feeling like all the roads have closed their exits, that you aren’t supposed to still-be-here - and yet.
i am still here, and still yours, and i haven’t forgotten. what i’m saying is if any hope is calling to you - i know it’s hard, but you have to listen. i’m saying keep driving, but slow down the car. sit down in the shower, i’m not judging you. we can stay in the dark with the good hot water and do nothing but stare. notice the stab wound. make it through another tuesday.
i know what it is like to miss yourself. do what you need to. come home to me. i am writing to you, my past self, from the future. i’ll be waiting for you.
and when the train is coming - please move.
This man really took me to meet his parents the first time we spent time together. We’ve shared a circle for years but have only just started being intentional with our time and my life is surely going to change because of him. I feel it. It’s all very foreign to me but I’m praying and being open to what life is showing me and where it’s taking me.
Dress made and designed by me.
the feminine urge to frustrate a man
