I feel absolutely incapable of coherent thought and my mind’s cabinets are obscured as if by fog. I can’t make sense of my textbook at all and the quiz is in half an hour. Or an hour.
I forgot my mouse in my room. Whoops I guess I’ll just not use one then.
And I’m not sure if this quiz requires calculators.
Sorry, I’m just so done with Friday and it’s barely slipped into afternoon.
I am sick and tired and I somehow slept through calculus because I forgot to set an alarm after I showered.
Please please please don’t screw up your quiz and lab.
Do not fall in love. When he walks into your life, do not be fooled. His appearance will be so deliberate that you will believe he was penned in to be your hero. He will excite you with his riddles and you will find wonder in his pretentious philosophies. Do not wrap yourself around his world. This is not a novel. He is not your hero.
Don’t you dare fall into his eyes or romanticize his walk. When he smiles, you will pledge your existence to his happiness. Fight that. Do not compare his face to Wilde’s romantic prose or expect his hands to mold your story.
When he touches you, your body will ignite and you will know ingenuous fulfillment. Your soul will adapt to his, and anyone else will forever feel infidelious. In this boy, you will find all the passion you had read about for the past 10 years. He will make you believe in happy endings and conquered villains. Do not fall for this. Whatever you do, do not let him in.
He will never be able to love you like you love him. He did not learn from Austen or Twain. This boy did not dream of the submission Roark lived for. He does not know how to invest himself into something bigger. Instead, he will hungrily take everything you have. When he leaves, he will take your religion with him.
Do not expect concrete loyalty or resolute bravery. He is not Heathcliff and this is not a novel. He will be weak and he will make mistakes. And again. And again. Do not forgive these flaws because you are dying to make him your protagonist. He cannot save you. He won’t care enough to.
Do not find your faith in his body. Do not find poetry in the angles of his chest, or art in his laughter. When he looks at you, you will stay up all night writing and rewriting a composition that adequately translates the worship you feel for him. You will fail. But this will not matter to him, because words will never mean as much to him as they do to you.
So he will be reckless. He will throw around sentences that will kill you. His lips will repair the damage and awaken your soul - until he sheepishly kills you again. He will not understand that words are your most faithful ally. He will not understand why each syllable screamed at a fight at 3 in the morning has substance. He will not understand the value that exists in a confession of love. He will make you cry harder than any tragedy ever written. He will then make you laugh louder than any comedy ever could.
He will exhaust you. He will make you both the happiest and the saddest you have ever been - often simultaneously. And as hard as you try, you will fall in love with him. You will crave him and you will need him. He will become essential to your being. You will give your life trying to be his dream and you will make him the exception to all of your rules. Fucking hell, you will love him with every ounce of yourself.
Like ink, the stolen glances will fade. He will read you, from cover to cover.He will indulge in the deepest chapters of your life again and again, until he knows all of your secrets. He will carelessly toss you around and misplace you for days and weaken your binding, After he’s finished, he will want a sequel you haven’t written. And he will leave you to write your epilogue alone.
Because this boy will not believe that love is enough. He will want more than you could ever give him, and he will not think twice about the wreck he leaves behind. This boy will screw you over. He will shatter any hope you were stupid enough to build. This boy will make your life the living hell your books never warned you of. After he is through with you, you will die trying to untangle yourself.
Do not fall for this boy. Refuse the notion of being in love. Stand by your paperbacks and live vicariously through Dominique.
Do not let him in. Do not let him in. Do not let him in.
This made me cry. And nothing makes me cry (via seabelle)
So if things go this way, I’m going to be doing many collaborations with Suds. On behalf of two clubs. And the transition meeting yesterday left me feeling more overwhelmed than before.
There’s so much to do and never enough time and I’m still going to sleep at 3 or 4am.
Please please please let things work out.
Your opinion about your body and how comfortable you are with it
I wrote a poem a bit before last year.
Some days I think I look okay. Well, most days I think I look okay.
There are some days when my hair flips out weirdly and my eyelids are asymmetrical and I suck in my stomach trying to do the buttons on my jeans. I am careful to bend my knees down instead of bending down straight over (despite being flexible enough to do so) because it crushes my midsection into a lumpy ball. I run a critical eye over my outfits when I try to dress up, else I lounge in camis and sweats because who is there to impress (and who has the time to dress in nice clothes for herself, being a complete accident magnet?)? I circle my fingers around my wrist, willing my bones to shrink so I can circumnavigate its existence with only my thumb and my pinky. I hate being poked, not so much because I’m ticklish (though that is a thing too), but because I hate the thought of other people sinking their fingers into what is and will forever be my fat. Mine.
And this too body is mine, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Maybe less a scratch or a bump here and there, maybe work out and become stronger, but this is mine to do what I please and it’s disorienting trying to write that this body is mine because what separates it from just being me?
I went ToK and back the memories of forming an “ugly club” during final presentations.
Was she going to slap you because you never in any way made him gay in the actual books, taking zero risks/doing absolutely nothing for gay characters in literature, and only announcing your “authorial intent” afterwards for a cheap shot at looking like an ~ally~
Gay people are just normal people. We are not told about any of the Hogwarts professors love lives, other than Snape, and it would be completely out of character for Dumbledore to walk around telling everyone about his sexuality.
Did you want her to make him dress in glittery platform boots, a crop top, and decorate his office in rainbow flags to make it more obvious for you? Would that be enough of a stereotype to appease you people? Or what? Please tell me. I’d like to know how you think a gay character is supposed to be portrayed.
And did you miss the Grindelwald chapters in the ‘actual books’? Or was that also not obvious enough for you? Did Dumbledore need to whisper “always” wistfully in order for you to connect that he had romantic feelings for Grindelwald? Maybe you are American and need them to gaze longingly into each others eyes with awkward close ups of their fingers almost grazing each other that Hollywood thinks means ‘true love’.
It didn’t fit into his relationship to Harry to ever say “I’m gay”, and so it was not stated explicitly (you might have noticed the book was told from Harry Potter’s perspective).
The point is though, that he is a homosexual, well respected, powerful, and very loved wizard- and his sexuality doesn’t matter because no one else thinks it matters. a.k.a. no one care that he loves men, and that is wonderful.
My life is just a string of fuck ups at three am.