i was once called a dreamer.

and when i fall asleep, that is when i truly hope i am alive.call me shas, she/her. i'm a little bit of everything.  

[shastea]

mmm one of the worst feelings i’ve ever felt is to make plans with someone and then them never acting on them. i love being shown my time isn’t valued it’s very nice ofc ofc

[valtsv]

*checks you out through the gap between our crossed blades*

[shastea]

it’s weird to think about how many people are out there that know things about ourselves that we’ve forgotten. somewhere there is someone thinking that you’re favorite color is orange because you told them that when you were 11. somewhere there is someone thinking your last meal on earth would be corn on the cob, mashed potatos, and greenbeans because on a whim you made each other’s last meals- we never know when it will be our last day here, might as well have our last meal now. somewhere out there is someone who thinks your favorite number is 77 because you told them that it was the only two-digit number with five syllables. somewhere out there is a boy who’s first date was with a girl at a fair who had to babysit a stranger and for months afterwards laughted about it. somewhere out there is a girl who can’t read books because they remind her of someone. somewhere out there someone drinks their coffee black while studying because a stranger told them it enhances their memory. 

our lives are filled with memories from strangers we once called friends. twenty years down the line, these people will remain the ages of the memoreis i hold dear in my brain. they will forever be the version of them i have created. 

- to all of my former friends, i’m sorry

[shastea]

times have changed

i knew i was no longer a writer when seeing a document in “arial” font did not bother me.

for as long as i can remember, it’s always been “times new roman” for me. “times” to start a new book, to start a “new” idea, delve headfirst into a world of “roman” gladiators, aliens, and more.

times new roman has been with me through friendships, bad grades, sleepless nights, new friends, abandonned books, and school projects.

it was an old friend, one that never left my side, and today, i started the process of saying

goodbye

[shastea]

you’re getting scared, aren’t you?

it hurts to see you be what you promised me

to another family.

to see them cling to you for their happiness

and recognize your face.

it hurts that you chose drugs over me,

but you’re there for them.

and still, i can see the patterns of my youth.

i see the hushed whisper and toned down anger.

i see the closed doors and unanswered calls.

i see the secrets.

it hurts for me to watch you be there for them.

a parent.

a father.

a figure.

jokingly you said that, “the next time your sister visits, she’s never going to leave. can’t stand seeing my daughter’s heart broken.”

where does that put me?

you watched as you broke my heart,

year after year,

until i refused to go on.

you watched as you gaslit my sister

and treated her like she was the chosen one,

even when you never showed up.

how many holidays can i recount of her staring out the window, waiting for you to amount

to a father?

to what you’re graciously being to another.

you’re getting scared again, aren’t you?

you’ve abandoned one family,

one set of two,

your new family won’t be so new

without you.

i see the signs

and your s\o can see them, too.

you’re getting scared again, aren’t you?

how much longer until

you’re no longer known as dad or daddy?

how much longer until

you stop being a family man?

you lasted longer this time,

congrats.

if there was a father of the year award for trying,

i’d give it to you this time around.

watching your interactions?

reminds me of what i missed out.

[shastea]

[new user] has created a forum

[new user] has commented on your story

[new user] has challenged you to a duel!

i use to belong to a writing site.

people knew each other’s writing styles like the backs of their hand or the way they knew how to avoid all the cracks on the stairs.

people knew each other’s lives and dreams and talked frequently about achieving them and their future plans. most wanted to be writers or study the arts. some wanted stem jobs and that was okay too.

i used to belong to a writing site.

i no longer write. the ideas shrivel and die, they wither and writhe, and i fantasize about how

i used to belong to a writing site?

i can’t write papers, or poetry, or instagram captions. yet, seemingly millions of dreams ago, i wanted to write something. something so concrete people would covet it, hushed whispers would haunt its name, and the spine would be heavy with annotations.

i used to belong to a writing site.

we were a team. a dream team. team dreamer. team 405. team euphoria. and so many more. we were champions, gathering points and popularity with every chapter we wrote, every piece of soul we poured into the paragraphs.

i used to belong to a writing site.

skipping homework to chat and plan surprise birthday events. changing the site’s logo and playing tricks on one another. we were best friends that

used to belong to a writing site, but now—

now i’ve forgotten their names.

it takes me a minute to recall who wrote what story or made which comment. it takes me a second to remember why i have a person on snapchat that i haven’t talked to in six months. it takes me a moment to figure out why something like william taft being stuck in a bathtub reminds me of batman in a bathtub.

i’m starting to forget. and i’ll never belong to the site again.

and soon i too will be a memory that takes a while to remember.

because we all used to belong to a writing site

[shastea]

i lost a piece of me

“i don’t write as much as i used to, and i probably never will”

[llleighsmith]

*me making my seventh tea / coffee of the day* maybe this little beverage will motivate me to finish my work

[s3aw3edbrain]

jason grace deserved better.

[percabeth4life]

Consider: Percy and Leo pitching their ideas to sleep deprived annabeth who's on board with the theories

Annabeth is totally on board with their plans and her help just means they're Wilder and more likely to succeed

[artsybookworms]

Headcanon that sometimes Percy and Annabeth work at battle re-enactments or renaissance faires because they know how to spar and they’re broke college students who need a way to make some extra cash.

[nightshade-anura]

Nico, ending up in China for the sixth time in a row: In all fairness, some of those who wonder are most definitely lost.

[probablyasocialecologist]

“This is what makes Musk’s Mars vision so different than, say, the Apollo missions or the International Space Station. This isn’t really exploration for humanity’s sake — there’s not that much science assumed here, as there was in the Moon missions. Musk wants to build the ultimate luxury package, exclusively for the richest among us. Musk isn’t trying to build something akin to Matt Damon’s spartan research base in “The Martian.” He wants to build Mars-a-Lago. And an economy based on tourism, particularly high-end tourism, needs employees — even if a high degree of automation is assumed. And as I’ve written about before, that means a lot of labor at the lowest cost possible. Imagine signing away years of your life to be a housekeeper in the Mars-a-Lago hotel, with your communications, water, food, energy usage, even oxygen tightly managed by your employer, and no government to file a grievance to if your employer cuts your wages, harasses you, cuts off your oxygen. Where would Mars-a-Lago’s employees turn if their rights were impinged upon? Oh wait, this planet is run privately? You have no rights. Musk’s vision for Mars colonization is inherently authoritarian. The potential for the existence of the employees of the Martian tourism industry to slip into something resembling indentured servitude, even slavery, cannot be underestimated.”

— Keith A. Spencer, Against Mars-a-Lago: Why SpaceX’s Mars colonization plan should terrify you

[phoebeedoodles]

I have much pjo fan art to post on here and completely forgot ,,.....

[shastea]

polar vortex

and some days, i wanna breathe fire, i wanna see billows of smoke pour from the concaves of my lungs. and other days,  i despise the cold, and the frozen air that hangs between us, strung together like unsaid words, and once cherished memories.  i want to listen to 2000s pop punk and skate around town, getting glares from grandmas, as i create a legend surround myself. and sometimes, i can’t get out of bed, and i can’t complete assignments, or eat, or upkeep, or sleep.

i don’t know.  my mind is a polar vortex, and i’m dreaming of warmer weather.  but for now, i’m freezing. 

[skellydun]

posting on a blackboard discussion board and replying to two of your fellow students has to be one of the nine circles of hell

[shastea]

do you ever stop and think about how we are all just pieces of everyone we’ve ever met? i was doing math homework, and i didn’t want to erase my (wrong) answer because of how nice the handwriting looked, and it took me back almost 7 years ago, when in a different math class a kid named oliver didn’t want to erase his (also wrong) answer because the 5 was perfect. i don’t wanna think about how i fold my towels the way a girl named haylee in my home-ec class told me saved space. i don’t wanna think about how i format my notes the way my ap euro teacher wrote his on the board. i don’t wanna think about how i always have back up pencils in my backpack, like an enby named aster i used to know. i don’t wanna think about how i read books and reminisce about the conversations i used to have with a girl named alexa about them. i paint and i can’t help but thinking about the boy named mikey giving me tips on brushstrokes. i don’t wanna think about fairs and carnivals, because i had a wattpad moment with a guy named kevin expcept i didn’t realize it until 6 years later. i don’t wanna think about all the people that have helped create me, that i don’t even talk to anymore.