Been drawing lots of reindeer at work these days

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

love it when my friends say "you would do numbers on Tumblr" buddy I am on Tumblr. and the number is 3

I wonder if my best friend knows that every time I allow him to walk into my very messy room unprompted I am letting him hold and cradle one of the most fragile parts of myself. I wonder if he knows how much trust goes into letting him see the mess

you have to outlive donald trump

you scoot into the backseat, glowing from a day of laughter. her parents know yours and you hope your children can feel this way too. she looks at you and its dark, but trust leads you to her eyes anyway. you didnt say the words but the lights dancing on your faces did it for you. just like that, a thought echoed within the backseat, like a secret only you and her could keep, shaped like the empty space between your hands held together. it meant i love you, let's be friends forever.

romantic devotion so intense that it defies morality has me tearing at the walls with my bare hands. but also! have we considered. platonic devotion so profound and all-encompassing that it becomes entirely amoral. like,,,you’re my best friend—of course i would break the world for you. of course i would bloody my hands. of course of i would, without hesitation or forethought. i love you always

but i am sick of climbing / i am sick of crawling on hand and knees and scraping myself along the ground / i am sick of self-help skills and persistence and patience / i am sick of pushing myself and burning out and thrashing about hopelessly / i am sick of being a goldfish in a hot pan / i am sick of reinventing myself every season / i am sick of this feeling / i would claw this out of me if you gave me a sharp enough object / i am sick of feeling unsafe around sharp objects / i am sick of never finding an object sharp enough

i wish you knew the answer and could tell me and pour it down my throat until i gagged on it / i made my therapist cry when i said i had a lacking in me / i told her that a train could drive through the spaces i put into myself / the lacking is what does it, not the wanting, the lack, the dullness / barely-breathing with my teeth clacking in the cold water / it's the same fucking bridge it's the same dream and the same stupid kid / i wish sometimes i had drowned in that pool / i wish i had been different, not even that it was easier but just that i had enough strength to endure it / i wish it went away / i wish i had one good fucking reason

these days when you close your eyes, what else do you want but to be loved in a warm and permanent way. the open soft hand, the lowered voice, the blanket around your shoulders. you want to be loved like hot chocolate, like spring flowers, like dawn. you want to go to sleep protected and wake up fully rested. you want the wounds in you to matter, you want someone who is patient around your scars.

how greedy. these days when you look around, how many little ways are you assaulted by the notion that it's wrong to need others. individualism! capitalism! bootstraps! every time you try to language it, you need to cover up your desire into a carefully-worded soundbite: of course no single person can fulfill every need and we must invest in communities and i must be responsible for my own mental health and

but the yawning in you doesn't understand logic or sound or reason. it only sees sundays, only sees what you do-not-have, only sees the look others share and that you so desire. sick with dread at it, sick at how it makes you want, how you yearn in no direction.

no matter how many people you take with you to bed, no matter how many hands touch the tattoo you share with your sibling, no matter how many times you kneel with your knees bleeding. always, the ache that never stops chewing, the desperate sick loneliness that never quite abates. it never stops humming, i need i need i need. you burn your inner child for warmth and scatter the ashes into your morning coffee.

so you shut up and you load your life like shotgun shells and you try to make yourself whole in the way that others are whole. you let your father's words spill out of your mouth. you make a quick joke rather than tear your heart open. you sing into the mic and go home with stars in your eyes. your life is beautiful and you're lucky! you have everything a person can need!

but it would be nice, is the thing. to have a love that feels like peace.

Chapter 8 - 19

night at the green dragon

Hannibal (2013-2015)

2x12 - “Tome-wan”

petition for the yellowjackets writers to release a pdf of shaunas wilderness journals after the last season is finished because holy shit I need to read them

rest in peace Mr.“fuck them kids” you were a real one