When your PSAT tries to trip you up with language on the math sections
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@weekeswentzby
When your PSAT tries to trip you up with language on the math sections
im dead
do you love the colour of the sky
concept playlists;
you’re lying on mossy forest floors, slowly transforming into a nymph, your fingers are turning into flower vines, your limbs are bleeding honey & growing thick skins of sepia bark, wings sprout in between your shoulder blades. your breath sounds like the wind. fireflies litter the air above you
you’re hold up in an abandoned church, outside there’s a raging storm & a horde of zombies roaming around, pressing up against the entrance doors. you & a small band of survivors are staying inside for the night in hopes to ride the bad weather out. you take first watch & listen to these tunes on an old ipod while everyone else tries to get some rest & the undead crawl outside, awaiting the taste of human flesh.
you’re in your boyfriend’s pickup. he’s asleep in the passenger seat, you’re driving without a destination in mind & you have the window down as you let the cool night air whip against your face in a state of pleasant delirium you’re on a rooftop somewhere, there’s 5 am air on your skin, streetlights glint like coins at the bottom of wishing wells from where you sit. you’re feeling peaceful for the first time all week
you’re lying in the middle of a crop circle forty miles from your grandma’s old house waiting for aliens to come and abduct you
it’s four pm in the afternoon and you’ve got your head in the lap of the only boy you’ve ever loved & you’re reading jane eyre & he’s sipping on tea & it’s the kind of weather where it’s just warm enough for you to pretend it’s summer & it’s drizzling & you’re listening to the rain beat softly against the windowpanes you’re curled up in bed as it pours outside, there’s a citywide blackout and the last candle you had left has finally blown out, but you feel strangely at peace within the warm, all-consuming dark
you’re making out in the bathroom of a house party with someone that makes you feel like you’ve swallowed the sun you’re standing amidst a city you burned to the ground. the apocalypse has come & gone. all that’s left is ashes & mortar & sad bones but you’re feeling empowered. a slow smile creeps up your lips as you realize how you’ve always wanted to watch the world burn you wander into wonderland and now you’re suddenly being crowned fairie queen, apparently there’s a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled it’s mid morning but it’s dark outside from the rain. you thought the tapping on the window was from the rain but it’s actually a crow that flickers out of sight when you look directly at it you’re sipping on cherry cola by the pool on a lazy sunday & you’re feeling younger than you’ve ever been you’re summoning old ghosts in an abandoned parking lot on a smoggy thursday night
Cows with Flower Crowns
I have found perfection.
A child is born on that day and at that hour when the celestial rays are in mathematical harmony with his individual karma.
Sri Yukteswar (via aforaquarius)
This is neat
help me, i am trapped
in a haiku factory
save me, before they
George Orwell’s “1984”, Original corrected manuscript - completed December 1948
Saw this sign at the Half Price Books in Austin, Texas today. Love it :)
Source.
me: wants to be hugged and held, is totally touch starved and needs to be cuddled
also me: allows only a very limited number of people to touch me at all, let alone in a slightly intimate way. barely ever allows myself to show emotional weakness around people. gets anxious when someone hugs me for too long.
I’m so touch starved that I think if I ever got to actually like fall asleep in someone’s arms I’d just immediately die
are you a sleep deprived gay or a touch starved gay
something about being lgbt that isn't talked about often
feeling like your very existence is a political statement. all the time, 24/7.
holding your girlfriend’s hand or showing pda is dangerous and revolutionary.
wearing a rainbow ring or shirt burns into your skin, marks you as a target. for trans people, even just presenting comfortably has this effect.
being gay or trans in a room of straight, cis people makes you different. you’re a representative and an outcast at the same time.
even if you choose to go undercover and stay closeted, every mention of the husband or wife you’ll inevitably get one day is a little punch in the gut.
you can’t just be normal, fit in, blend with the crowd. you’re always off, different, a red flag.
you’re forced to either choose to make a powerful statement with your every action, or live life forgotten, alone, and in pain.
it’s tiring.