Is it really easy to suddenly realize that there is no feelings for that one person in just a second? The person you grow up with. The person that I didn't love, but also didn't hate.
It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.
Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.
Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.
The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.
The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.
She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.
She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."
She was booked into the county jail. The headlines wrote themselves. A grandmother running a pot bakery. It seemed like a joke to the legal system, a quirky local news story about an older woman behaving badly.
But Mary wasn't baking for fun. And she certainly wasn't baking for profit.
To understand why Mary risked her freedom, you have to understand the silence of the early 1980s.
San Francisco was gripping the edge of a cliff. A mysterious illness was sweeping through the city, specifically targeting young men. Later, the world would know it as AIDS. But in those early days, it was just a death sentence that no one wanted to talk about.
Families were disowning their sons. Landlords were evicting tenants. Even doctors and nurses, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, would sometimes leave food trays outside hospital doors, afraid to breathe the same air as their patients.
Men in their twenties were wasting away in sterile rooms, dying alone.
Mary knew what it felt like to lose a child.
Years earlier, in 1974, her daughter Peggy had been killed in a car accident. Peggy was only 22. The loss had hollowed Mary out, leaving a space in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.
When the judge sentenced Mary for that first arrest, he ordered her to perform 500 hours of community service. He likely thought the manual labor would teach her a lesson.
He sent her to the Shanti Project and San Francisco General Hospital.
It was a mistake that would change American history.
Mary walked into the AIDS wards when others were walking out. She didn't wear a hazmat suit. She didn't hold her breath. She saw rows of young men who looked like ghostsāskeletal, in pain, and terrified.
She saw "her kids."
She began mopping floors and changing sheets. But soon, she noticed something the doctors were missing. The harsh medications the men were taking caused violent nausea. They couldn't eat. They were starving to death as much as they were dying of the virus.
Mary knew a secret about the brownies she had been arrested for.
She knew they settled the stomach. She knew they brought back the appetite. She knew they could help a dying man sleep for a few hours without pain.
So, she made a choice.
She went back to her kitchen. She fired up the oven. She started mixing batter, not to sell, but to save.
Every morning, Mary would bake. She lived on a fixed income, surviving on Social Security checks that barely covered her rent. Yet, she spent nearly every dime on flour, sugar, and butter.
The most expensive ingredientāthe cannabisāwas donated. Local growers heard what she was doing. They began dropping off pounds of product at her door, free of charge.
She packed the brownies into a basket and took the bus to the hospital.
She walked room to room. She sat by the bedsides of men who hadn't seen their own mothers in years. She held their hands. She told them jokes. And she gave them brownies.
"Here, baby," she would say. "Eat this. It'll help."
And it did.
Nurses watched in amazement as patients who hadn't eaten in days began to ask for food. The constant retching stopped. The mood on the ward shifted from despair to a quiet sort of comfort.
Mary Jane Rathbun became "Brownie Mary."
For over a decade, this was her life. She baked roughly 600 brownies a day. She went through 50 pounds of flour a week. She became the mother to a generation of lost boys.
She washed their pajamas. She attended their funerals. She held them while they took their last breaths.
She did this while the government declared a "War on Drugs."
By the early 1990s, the political climate was hostile. Politicians were competing to see who could be "tougher" on crime. Mandatory minimum sentences were locking people away for decades.
In 1992, at the age of 70, Mary was arrested again.
This time, the stakes were lethal. She was charged with felonies. The district attorney looked at her rap sheet and saw a repeat offender. He threatened to send her to prison.
One prosecutor famously whispered to a colleague that he was going to "kick this old lady's ass."
They underestimated who they were dealing with.
They thought they were prosecuting a drug dealer. In reality, they were attacking the most beloved woman in San Francisco.
When the news broke that Brownie Mary was facing prison, the city erupted.
It wasn't just the activists who were angry. It was the doctors. It was the nurses. It was the parents who had watched Mary care for their dying sons when the government did nothing.
Mary turned her trial into a pulpit.
She arrived at court not as a defendant, but as a grandmother standing her ground. The media swarmed her. Reporters asked if she was afraid of prison. They asked if she would stop baking if they let her go.
Mary looked into the cameras, her voice gravelly and firm.
"If the narcs think I'm gonna stop baking brownies for my kids with AIDS," she said, "they can go fuck themselves in Macy's window."
The quote ran in newspapers across the country.
The court didn't stand a chance.
Testimony poured in. Doctors from San Francisco General Hospital wrote letters explaining that Maryās brownies were medically necessary. Patients testified that she was an angel of mercy.
The charges were dropped.
Mary walked out of the courthouse a free woman. But she didn't go home to rest. She realized that her personal victory wasn't enough. As long as the law was broken, her "kids" were still in danger.
She needed to change the law.
August 25 was declared "Brownie Mary Day" by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. It was a nice gesture, but Mary wanted policy, not plaques.
She teamed up with fellow activist Dennis Peron. Together, they opened the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Clubāthe first public dispensary in the United States. It was a safe haven where patients could get their medicine without fear of arrest.
But Mary wanted more. She wanted the state of California to acknowledge the truth.
She campaigned for Proposition 215. She traveled the state, despite her failing health. She spoke in her simple, direct way. She didn't talk about liberties or economics. She talked about compassion. She talked about pain.
She forced voters to look at the issue through the eyes of a grandmother.
In 1996, Proposition 215 passed. California became the first state to legalize medical marijuana.
It was a domino effect. Because one woman refused to let her "kids" suffer, the public perception of cannabis shifted. The Economist later noted that Mary was single-handedly responsible for changing the national conversation.
She never got rich.
She had always joked that if legalization ever happened, she would sell her recipe to Betty Crocker and buy a Victorian house for her patients to live in.
She never sold the recipe. She never bought the house.
Mary Jane Rathbun died in 1999, at the age of 77. She passed away in a nursing home, poor in money but rich in legacy.
Today, over 30 states have legalized medical marijuana. Millions of people use it to manage pain, seizures, and nausea.
Most of them have never heard of Mary.
They don't know that their legal prescription exists because a waitress in San Francisco decided that the law was wrong and her heart was right.
They don't know about the 600 brownies a day.
They don't know about the thousands of hospital visits.
Mary didn't set out to be a hero. She told the Chicago Tribune years before she died, "I didn't go into this thinking I would be a hero."
She was just a mother who had lost her daughter, trying to help boys who had lost their way.
She proved that authority doesn't always equal morality.
She proved that sometimes, the most patriotic thing a citizen can do is break a bad law.
Every August, a few people in San Francisco still celebrate Brownie Mary Day. But her true memorial isn't a date on a calendar.
It is found in every oncology ward where a patient finds relief. It is found in every dispensary door that opens without fear.
It is found in the simple, quiet courage of anyone who sees suffering and refuses to look away.
Mary taught us that you don't need a law degree to change the world. You don't need millions of dollars. You don't need political office.
Sometimes, all you need is a mixing bowl, an oven, and enough love to tell the world to get out of your way.
Sources: New York Times Obituary (1999), "Brownie Mary" Rathbun. San Francisco Chronicle Archives (1992, 1996). History.com, "The History of Medical Marijuana." Weird Everything, FB december 12, 2025
I'd be only too happy to do that. I was suspicious to start, too. It seemed a bit on the nose to have the weed brownie grandma named "Mary Jane," but also, that's a very common combination in a certain place and time, so I thought it was worth the extra effort.
What I did was find sources that made the claim (in this case, that a woman named Mary Jane was a medicinal marijuana activist in California, USA in the 1980s and 90s.) I checked the dates to get some certainty those sources aren't AI slop, then checked that the sources are generally reliable.
Then I followed useful details about the place and time, and other people involved, to explore it more fully.
The first thing I did was search for "Brownie Mary" and see if that turned anything up at all. It turned up a LOT of results. Predictably, some of them were recipes, but not all of them.
Next up, I checked sources and dates. Wikipedia can be dodgy for academic use, but their policy on LLM-generated input is very clear: they don't want slop. I started by reading that page and then went on to read others.
The Atlas Obscura article is from 2018. I found another one from SFWeekly from 2017.
Both of those are decent sources - Atlas Obscura gets a High factual reporting rate from MediaBiasFactCheck, and while MBFC doesn't have a rating for SFWeekly, the verbiage in that article is very close to what GastroObscura has. (Also to what the post itself has, right down to the choice of pull quote.)
Now, we can stop there and feel pretty confident that articles published before the wide availability of LLMs are not, in fact, LLM generated.
...or we can go deeper, and run this all the way back to source.
I spotted references to a Chicago Tribune imterview of Mary Jane Rathbun, published in 1993.
My search string of "Chicago Tribune 1993 Mary Jane Rathbun" hit it in the top 3 results. That article includes some fun new details: she wore a cannabis leaf shaped pendant to her trial!
She also objected to being portrayed as a cuddly grandma up against The Man, so I must retract my flippant tags, above.
The evidence now strongly points to Brownie Mary being a real woman who really went to court for giving AIDS patients weed brownies. But can we get closer? I've now seen several mentions of a 1980 attempt at convicting her too.
The articles have mentioned Sonoma County and a nonprofit called the Shanti Project, so let's hook onto that and see what we get.
Searching for "Mary Jane Rathbun Sonoma County 1980" gets me an article from a law firm; that mentions the prosecuting attorney by name, and points to a book: Lust for Justice: The Radical Life & Law of J. Tony Serra, by Paulette Frankl. It even has an excerpt!
We can run the book down too, just for fun (now we have a primary source.) My favorite used book site has a copy for $1. Amazon gives a view of the back cover, too:
...wow. I should see if my library has that!
The excerpt on the site has a mention of a candelight vigil held for her death in 1999. It took some hunting past things I'd already read and a bunch of shops giving written tributes, but I found a news report about that, too.
There's a lot of information out there, and it's worth digging into. Otherwise it's altogether too easy to think something real and worth knowing is just another bit of slop.
Korean Poetry Book Recommendations To Read When Learning Korean
Poem books are great tools to study from when learning a language. The poetic form is short and sweet and can be endearing to read and translate, especially, if you are an avid poetry lover like myself. Here are some of my favourites I have been learning from!
I see you as I saw a flower [ź½ģ ė³“ėÆ ėė„¼ ė³øė¤] byĀ Na Tae-joo
This is a beautiful poem book and one of my favourites I have read thus far. Simple yet very meaningful pieces and nice to translate.
Poems of a Wanderer [og: ė ėģ“ģ ģ] by Seo Jeong-ju
This is a pretty rare vintage classic but if you can get your hands on it, please do! Jeong-ju was considered when of the best poets of the 20th century, thus for sure worth a read and well worth translating.
I have a love for classic literature, thus why I recommend these books. There is something about elder poets, just a different perspective I have seen when translating them against the modern day. I really loved this read, it was very fresh for the time.
Enough to say itās far byĀ Pak Chaesam
Considered one of the most important and unusual poets, this was a lovely book to translate for me. Another Korean poet described this book as; āthe most exquisite expression of the Korean sense of han,ā and I loved that thought even more and could totally get that when translating. Loved this and was probably my favourite.
okay many people are tired of google docs and their fucked up privacy policies so i went into my own search for alternatives but most of them are online with a subscription plan and i refuse to spend my money on that. also, most of the alternatives out there have ai plugged in in one way or another, so i've decided to curate my own list of recomendations.
this is the criteria:
has to be free, possibly offline as i don't fully trust clouds
has to be free of ai, or, in the worst case, it doesn't have to be one of the main features
made for writers
Ellipsus
free
online, web based
clear anti-ai stance
direct export to ao3
lots of templates to choose from, very clearly catered towards fic writers
has a feature to include collaborators so you can share it with beta readers and they can comment on the doc
plenty of customization options
cons:
the only big downside i see (for now) is that it's still in beta so we don't really know how the monetization will work yet. they stated that the current free features will stay free, so it's a matter of trust i guess.
if you're the type that needs boards and timelines and such you will need something else to do that
also the spellchecker is still a work in progress
Wavemaker
free and open-source
online, web based, although it works locally so it doesn't hoard any of your data
has an option to sync with google drive
many planning features if that's your jam, boards and sticky notes and such
cons:
i'm not sure if it works properly offline
not many customizations options if that's a must for you
it has an ai option, tho it's optional and you have to sign up for that
novelWriter
free and open-source
offline, but you can easily set up your own sync
plenty of options to export
very customizable
many tools for planning and managing bigger stories
it's the one i'm currently using it and i think it's severely underrated!!!
cons:
the ui might not be the prettiest for your likes, tho, again, is highly customizable
if you're the kind of person who gets overwhelmed when there are too much options this might not be for you
you might have to download your own spellcheckers if you write in anything else than english
similar to word or google docs
LibreOffice
free and open source
offline, available for any os
as it is offline none of your data is stored or used to train ai
you can easily set it with your own cloud service
cons:
some people don't really like the ui, but i think it's gotten a lot better and user friendly
the spellcheckers aren't as good as microsoft words for what i've seen, at least if you write in something else than english
OnlyOffice
free and open source
offiline, the same as before tho many people prefer it over LibreOffice in regards to the ui
it has a paid cloud service but also easy to set up with your own or selfhost
cons:
has ai integration, i don't know how invasive it is
markdown based
if you're more inclined to markdown editors but also would like to avoid notion due to privacy or anti-ai reasons, these are some options
Obsidian
very useful for worldbuilding, plotting and planning in general
offline first, available for any os. you can either pay for obsidian sync or set up your own sync system.
truly customizable, with the right set of plugins you can turn it into your own personal writing suite. the most used by authors i've seen are Longform, Readability Score, LanguageTool and KeepTheRhything, and there are plenty of videos of authors sharing their own set ups
cons:
if you're the kind of person who procrastinates by customizing things and trying to find the perfect set of tools before even starting, you'll probably have to be careful of falling into the rabbit hole of obsidian vids.
it isn't really made for long writing so you might feel some friction with that even with the right amount of plugins
it's easy to get overwhelmed by the variety of tools that it offers and that maybe serve not purpose to your writer needs
Ghostwriter
free and open source
offline, but as any other can be easily synced by your own means
minimalistic but it has some writer oriented features like stats and outlines
cons:
it's mostly for linux, with a portable app for windows and on mac you gotta do your own compiling
i think it doesn't come with it's own spellchecker
Joplin
free and open source
offline, with a paid cloud plan and plenty of resources to sync it by yourself
similar to obsidian, very customizable and a jack of all trades
plenty of plugins too!
cons:
it might have a steeper learning curve as the ui isn't as friendly as obsidian
again, you might get lost in the rabbithole of endless customization
for the techies out thereā¦
VisualStudio Code
free and open source
has plenty of easily accesible extensions
i've seen someone say it has a really neat export to markdown tool, big if true
there are some tutorials out there for you freaks
cons:
it's owned by microsoft so expect your usual telemetry and ai integration
i don't know just because you can it doesn't mean you should
Emacs
free, open source
endless customization options
if you wanted an excuse to dig your nails into emacs this is your chance
there are many tutorials of people helping you set up your writing enviroment
cons:
if you're not into tinkering and getting your hands on the mud for your software then this might be actually scary
i don't know i tried one tutorial and failed ok
Vim
free and open source
the same, the possibilities are endless
big if you hate to use the mouse
cons:
i don't know i haven't even tried but i've seen people use it so. it can be done ig
ALTERNATIVES FOR THE CLOUD
if you refuse to pay for another cloud service, many people use the ones they already have, or selfhost if they're more tech savvy.
i personally use Syncthing which works end-to-end on my local network, synchronizing my desktop pc with my laptop. it only works when they're both online, so if you need immediate access to changes this might not work for you, but on my side i only use it to have a backup.
if you are still using Google Drive for some reason or another, you can as well install it on your computer and use it as a backup for any of the offline apps. i think Dropbox works the same. Proton Drive also has been gaining popularity between the privacy enthusiasts, and it has 5GB free it seems. other people use iCloud, tho i don't own any apple products so idk about that. whichever of these you choose, you're still dependant of those companies to keep your files safe, so always have a local backup if possible.
lastly, i've seen many people (mostly the one's that use obsidian or something from the techie section) use git and upload it to a private github repository or another service for git management.
you always have the choice to host your own server, tho i can't really guide you on that there are plenty of tutorials and documentation online, and the only downside if that maybe you don't have the same safety net as the Big Companies tm in case your server breaks
The thing about fiction is that there's stuff that's completely gone from your mind in a few years but there's just some fragment or tidbit about it that follows you around forever.
Like there was this webcomic I read like 15 years ago, remember fuck all else about it but there was a character in it whose name was Saves A Fox. When she was asked about it once she explained that her people are big into prophesies and fate, and that children are named after something they were fated to do. She always hated that. And this one time she unexpectedly walked in on a wild fox gorgeing itself on her food supplies, and she knew that this was it. The fox wasn't even skittish, it wasn't trying to escape, it was almost tame, looking at her gently like just expecting her to choose mercy and let the food thief go. And everyone around her was expecting it too. But while she didn't want to hurt the poor creature, she hated the thought of having her future dictated for her even more than that.
So she snapped the fox's neck. Just to prove herself and everyone bearing witness that she had free will and wasn't a pawn of any fate or prophesy. Needless to say, her community did not like that.
Later on she learned about what rabies is. The fox she had killed had rabies. She had saved the fox from a far more terrible and slow, painful death.
On the subject about parents needing to control their child's reading and invade their privacy in order to "protect" them from "inappropriate material:
Until I was in....college? At least? The vast, vast majority of the books I read were either a) assigned by my school or b) (the vast majority of my reading) provided to me by my mother.
My mom is a librarian. She filled our rooms with books, picked especially for us. She pointed out books on the shelves in our home library (separate from our bedroom shelves) that she thought we would like. She bought us books for birthdays, Christmas, and just stacks of recommendations. She once paid me $10 to read one of the Cirque Du Freak books because she said I needed "to be exposed to bad literature."
She respected my privacy in room, didn't go through my belongings. She explicitly pointed out to us that she wouldn't know if we took a particular book of the shelf, as long as we returned it, if we didn't want her to know we were reading it. She purposely brought us books that she didn't care for herself, because she thought we might find them valuable or enjoyable.
And if we wanted to read something she thought might upset or disturb us, she would explain why. She wouldn't stop us from reading it - just ask us to check in with her, to talk through it.
And so when I read something that upset or disturbed me, I would go to her. She would listen and talk through it with me.
If she said she didn't think I would like something, or that a book might disturb me, or that she thought I should wait until I was older, I listened to her.
She didn't need restrictions or control to protect me. Because she proved I could trust her.
Controlling kids is never about "protecting" them. It's just about control.
My tepid take is that the steady errosion of children's access to books without having someone looking over their shoulder is directly proportional to the rise in authoritarian and fascist governments over the last ~10 years.
Reading is great for developing critical thinking skills, but not if you always have an authority figure ready and waiting to answer all your questions and resolve any feelings of discomfort.
On the subject about parents needing to control their child's reading and invade their privacy in order to "protect" them from "inappropriate material:
Until I was in....college? At least? The vast, vast majority of the books I read were either a) assigned by my school or b) (the vast majority of my reading) provided to me by my mother.
My mom is a librarian. She filled our rooms with books, picked especially for us. She pointed out books on the shelves in our home library (separate from our bedroom shelves) that she thought we would like. She bought us books for birthdays, Christmas, and just stacks of recommendations. She once paid me $10 to read one of the Cirque Du Freak books because she said I needed "to be exposed to bad literature."
She respected my privacy in room, didn't go through my belongings. She explicitly pointed out to us that she wouldn't know if we took a particular book of the shelf, as long as we returned it, if we didn't want her to know we were reading it. She purposely brought us books that she didn't care for herself, because she thought we might find them valuable or enjoyable.
And if we wanted to read something she thought might upset or disturb us, she would explain why. She wouldn't stop us from reading it - just ask us to check in with her, to talk through it.
And so when I read something that upset or disturbed me, I would go to her. She would listen and talk through it with me.
If she said she didn't think I would like something, or that a book might disturb me, or that she thought I should wait until I was older, I listened to her.
She didn't need restrictions or control to protect me. Because she proved I could trust her.
Controlling kids is never about "protecting" them. It's just about control.
My tepid take is that the steady errosion of children's access to books without having someone looking over their shoulder is directly proportional to the rise in authoritarian and fascist governments over the last ~10 years.
Reading is great for developing critical thinking skills, but not if you always have an authority figure ready and waiting to answer all your questions and resolve any feelings of discomfort.
āNever discredit your gut instinct. You are not paranoid. Your body can pick up on bad vibrations. If something deep inside of you says something is not right about a person or situation, trust it.ā
I havenāt written a ālove poemā for anyone in a while
Itās not that I hadnāt āfallen in loveā
Iāve experienced love a few times
Every time I genuinely loved someone, I wrote for them
The truth is, when I love, I love hard
I donāt just see a person in front of me, I see everything
Everything I couldāve possibly wanted, and loved, right in front of me
For some reason, the times Iāve been really in love, I never made it to the ārelationship partā
I guess Iāve never really been āchosenā you know??
He āchoseā me, for the first time someone wanted to hold me
Iāve never been the girl many guys have wanted to give flowers to
Not that long ago, he tried to get me flowers, I think that was the moment I wanted to say āI love youā to him
I didnāt accept them, not because of him, not at all
I was so joyous about it actually, but no one has ever given me flowers, itās very rare when Iām given anything really when it comes to āloversā
I guess my head couldnāt understand how to accept them, it felt weird? Iāve always wanted flowers, roses to be exact, black roses
They didnāt have to be real, I just like how they look, anyway, Iām just not good at receiving gifts
Iām the woman that gives you gifts, but Iām never the one that receives
I felt like I left the store with the biggest bouquet anyway, I left with the biggest smile, because I felt so loved, I felt appreciated
He was so cute about it as well, you could tell he was flustered, and he felt like he had done the wrong thing
I reassured him, and tried explaining, I actually felt so mean, but my insecurities, and past always seems to get in my way
I was happy anyway, because I left that store with a full heart, and my lover beside me
He got me one of my favorite drinks, I still have the bottle
I like saving things to remember those Iāve loved, I like doing it, because they are special to me, and I love showing it
I love making people feel important, no not just feel it, I love showing them they are important
I loved his hair, when I first saw him put it up, I thought he looked adorable
We used to ābed rotā together, I never told him, but I woke up in the middle of us sleeping once, because I felt sick, I needed water, and when I sat up to drink it
I looked over..he was snoring, and had his mouth open, I remember I sat there and giggled
I felt so sick, but waking up to that adorable sight, was so relieving
No matter how sick I felt, I was so happy to be laying in āour bedā, oh yeah that was another thing
We had a joke, about how it was āmy bedā, itās so funny, itās because I basically would take up his whole bed, and just sleep my hours away even while he did stuff around his room
I remember this one time, I even kept taking the blanket from him, not on purpose of course
When I would wake up, and realize, I would try to put it on him without waking him up
I remember when we would look at each others eyes
I loved doing it, he had told me it made him nervous at times, that felt nice to hear, because that meant I made him feel
We used to talk for hours
Just talk and talk
So much my mom even got upset once, because I had been on call all day with him
I couldnāt help it, I loved hearing his voice, and laugh, I loved hearing about his past, and how he would hear about mine
I remember I used to be very blunt with him, I would tell him my thoughts even if I struggled, because I would get shy
I told him āIām afraid this is the last time Iāll see you, so I really am trying to soak up every moment with youā
I wish I never got so comfortable, I took it too literal when he told me I could be myself, and even if I broke he would be by my side
The thing about me is, when I ābreakā I donāt just ābreakā, I shatter
People like me at first for the many reasons they chose to, but they donāt believe me when I tell them, I can be a lot, I require patience
I just need to be loved, and held during those times, Iāll pick myself up, but I need time
Time, time is always ticking, time ruins my peaceful dreams
It feels like everything is always running away from me, every moment of joy, every moment of bliss
Things always end up falling apart, itās like something out there always leaves obstacles behind, for me to one day find
I wish I wouldāve never went home the last time I saw him
I thought that night we would fix things entirely, that weād watch our movie over the phone, and that in 2 days or so, Iād be back in my bed
That Iād been sleeping over again
I always know though, because thereās always that feeling in my throat, their heart beat is slow, meanwhile mine could burst, and glow
I saw a future by his side, but I think for him it ended when I showed how bad I can get when things donāt go right
All I wanted since we started arguing, was to be by his side, hugging him, and kissing him
what are you waiting for? someone to grant you permission? the perfect and permanent emotion? a shooting star to magic away every problem you have or ever have had? alright, wait away then. but no one is going to live your life for you while you wait to become someone else
āI hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work with these stories; water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.ā
āLife is short, break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that made you smile. Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didnt do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your souls. Explore. Dream. Discover.ā
ā Unknown
you found me @lostinagoodbye - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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