#usersa5m

[kagetatsumis]

“Why do you waste all of your strength fighting your true nature?”

[dreamertrilogys]

THE PHOENIX — FALL OUT BOY

[yanxi]

BOOKS READ IN 2020: Legend by Marie Lu

— without emotion, what’s the point of being human?

[falloutsboys]

THE LAST OF THE REAL ONES - FALL OUT BOY

[fireheartpages]

june claremont-diaz: the sanctified idea of southernness at it’s best

[seijohsremade]

don’t feel bad, i’m usually about to die.

happy birthday, ania (@jacksonperseus)!

[emiliadicarlos]

what more do you want? 

everything

for @gerralt in katie’s happiness circle!

[herondalelucies]

Chayi (The Art of Drinking Tea)

Making tea is often a tradition that denotes Respect and appreciation for things such as family And marriage. Washing the teacup with boiled water Cleanses your heart and mind, dissipating the yin Collected from your sins. Tea leaves are passed Around to be examined and admired—a picture Of grace. Prosperity and happiness Are meant to be delivered by flipping The tea within two cups, a flow of exchange Between guests that is soon discarded as well. Greed  And jealousy is washed away with the impure water until You are filled with only the richness of yang. The tea you are finally able to drink is signified By something I no longer am sure I understand, Painted by lost cultural significance only My grandparents retain. You echo these motions In an attempt to pass down rituals that matter, And yet none of this feels important to me. I feel as if I grew up to be those tea leaves, Fragrant smells promising the sweetness Of tea, but instead, I am the flavorless water Cast aside because who I am doesn’t Fit into the rigidness of the tradition that Tell me to conform my values to Those of this society.

Making tea is also a tradition that means Apologies—regret and submission for Failures of the past. I pour my tea out To wash away the bad qi of the choices I have made, wishing you fortune And joy. (Even if I am not the daughter you wanted.) I reboil the water at the right temperature To ensure the tea is not bitter. My cup brims With my sorrow and my love, yet (I am still not sorry for who I am.)