#one entity

[christianpuppetshow]

in the wake of this whole ‘bros-making-podcasts’ epidemic, let it be known that the only men who should be allowed to a. have a podcast, but also b. talk — are dnp.

[ahappyphjl]

i love dan phil

[mcwexlher]

Yeah no I still can't remember which one is Mac and which one is Dennis

[edward-snowdenhands]

Ppl who use plural verbs for collective nouns.... Not valid

[lita32014]

the well of loneliness - radclyffe hall (1928, modern), PROSE

"now you're a part of morton" - symbolic of how angela has become a part of stephen's family????

"not two separate people but one" - stephen believes that she and angela are connected, part of each other

[lovelyshards]

So I Feel Like A Twat For Posting This, But Here Goes.

When we met we were still considering "Raptures" for this concert. When we met there were still snow piles taller than the car I drive on the parking lot edges. When we met the coldest winter in decades was in full swing.

The wind still probes at my jacket, but under the sun I can go without it entirely. Everything is water and the grass shows through, a faded yellow tan. Soon the buds will come to the trees. Blue sky is becoming more common. "Raptures" is back on the shelf. In less than twenty-four hours we will be performing music that we began rehearsing in September. Long winter nights are paying off in the form of spring afternoons and evenings. The world is changing again. I'm sorry we never got to see spring together. We just didn't make it that far.

That's why I'm dedicating tomorrow's performance to you. You will never see the musician I am, but you might know what's going through my mind. 

Know that I am sorry for everything. Every bit of everything we went through that either split us up or lent into it. Everything that I did and am doing that is not helping. The fact that I cannot handle it. The fact that I’m not enough, incapable. Music is all I have. I jerk my head and tilt my body and stroke the keys and pull the sound forth and people love it. I’m sorry that, above all, you never got to see this. That it’s not an option at this point, if ever. That "never" is a very real concept for us. Then again you probably meant never. I think to a degree I wish you could have let me decide if I could deal with it, but that was your call and I can’t change the past, although I would break both of my hands and remove my eyes if it meant that I could.

So, for one night, let me give you these hands. They have a blister and a bunch of callouses and marks and holes where my anxiety is reflected on my skin, but they’re yours. Let this heartbeat tell our story. Let every note be whatever you would have sung to me. Let my movements be the love we never made. Let every thundering pulse of the bass be the times you told me you missed me. Let every sound be what we were. I still keep those memories as the most precious things my brain could ever have. A part of me will always carry you, either by memory or what we felt for each other for a little while in the dead of winter. We never got to see spring together, but tomorrow I’m carrying you with me onto that stage, and we can see what the spring has for one night. I could only think of one person during every run-through, every rehearsal, every beat. It’s only fitting that that person be the one who this performance is for. You have my support and my love, always. Let this be the last thing I can ever do for you before I let these memories fade and set aside that time in our lives for good. I know you wanted me to move on. So far, I haven’t come even close to it. But, if you ever felt that we were connected, I’m putting that on the stage tomorrow, before I have to force myself to turn away from it, too. I’d say I love you, but you know that already.