#shit dude....

[raiponces]

tfw u wanted to buy a jacket on amazon but ur mom says its ugly and wont let u

[inigowain]

October 4th is also Nanako’s birthday…..

[missakinz]

i barely knew the dude but goddamn does my heart go out to all those affected.

[theglorificus]

1. "grief rearranges you just as much as love does," i said excitedly to my friend wills. it was cold out and i was shivering, but we were entrenched in such a good conversation that i didn't want to go home, so i pulled my sleeves down over my hands and gestured extravagantly. "it is a universal human experience, and we don't really understand what it actually does to us, in the end." i thought of chemical shifts, perspectives permanently altered, deeper understandings of the self that come through such bone-shaking sorrow. 2. a few hours earlier, another friend had told me how she was struggling to share focus between multiple deaths in her group of friends, and together we remembered how many of my friends passed in 2012, what a long and peculiar year of recovery 2013 was, how in many ways i stumbled through in a state of shock and am just emerging now. 3. i wrote that morning, in my journal: "i don't understand grief entirely, or its role in my development, but i find as time goes by that i am thankful for it as a sort of memento mori. i feel i carry much more wisdom now, and patience. and i feel very alive (by comparison i suppose, which feels tacky but still), and my heart beating so defiantly...it hurts and it is strange how i love them so much even when they are gone, gone but i am also very grateful." 4. out on hudson street, a road leading through the countryside to my house, a raccoon had been hit by a car and her body had languished for a day or two. it made me sad to pass by, but i didn't know what to do. as i drove home that night, the waning moon peeking over my shoulder, i was going slow and careful and still thinking of how grief has rearranged me, and it happened that i came up slow enough that i did not interrupt the vigil. as i came to the top of the hill where i had seen the raccoon, i saw two more, each filled with vital life, one crouched near the body, one standing like a sentinel with his eyes fixed on the moon. my window was down, the night was still cold but the air smelled so good and it was another thing that reminded me that i was alive. i let the car idle as i greeted them. "we're all connected in our grieving," i said, "you have my sympathy."

Olivia Pepper