L.M. Montgomery, Anne Of Green Gables

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry but I want you to be too

I want to look down on you while you gasp and cry and feel the pain you caused me

and I think my therapist would say that that doesn't make me a bad person but I think it does

Because you can articulate the pain I caused you and I can't do that to mine I can just feel it but oh god I caused that hurt and I'm so sorry so sorry so sorry

But I want you to be sorry t—

hope is a skill

Listen. Listen to me, okay? Your head is lying to you. You think of the future and no matter what you see it’s a void, there’s nothing, it's grey, and really not different from where you are now but I need you to know it’s a lie. I don’t know why, okay? I don’t know why your head insists on taking the life out of every idea and vision like it’s a conscious effort to destroy you but it. is not. Real. You move and no matter how you move, if you move things change. Even if you have no plans of changing anything, next year will be different. It’s a guarantee. So if you make ANY effort to change it into the direction you WANT it to go

universes will collide.

silent lake

drew over something i wrote for a class and liked :] sorry the cars are lowkey ugly, its because I fucking hate cars and cant be bothered to learn what they look like beyond ominous hunks of metal

edit: transcript of the poem by itself under the cut

6 Tips for Crossing the Road

Look both ways

The road is for cars. 

Make sure to look for them before crossing. Even when you have the right of way, cars have a lot of safety features and you have none. 

Use designated crosswalks 

The road is for cars. 

So is the crosswalk but, under brief and temporary conditions, you can use it too! Never jaywalk, never walk in the road, just hope there is a clear and functional sidewalk. 

Cross at the light

The road is for cars. 

There are rules and signs for them, but that can only go so far. Walk quickly and hold your breath and hope that the light doesn't turn. Make eye contact with drivers as their cars teem with potential energy, rumbling with disdain at the inconvenience of your crossing. Try to ignore the cloud of exhaust that you are in and they are above. 

Leash your pets

The road is for cars. 

Obviously. 

To you, it may be natural to sacrifice so much space to them but to your dog, it is not. His instinct is to explore freely. You must curb it. Modern US car models have such high hoods that the average child, let alone dog, is obscured. Even on the sidewalk, hold the leash tight because the sidewalk (if you are so blessed) is next to the street and the threat still looms.

Look out for road kill

The road is for cars. 

And no one was there to leash the deer. 

Or the raccoon. 

Or the cat. 

Did you know that the most reliable sample method for wildlife in an area is looking at the roadkill? 

Remember these tips

The road is for cars. 

Cars are everywhere. In the city. In the suburbs. In the country. In the woods (the US Forest Service manages more roads than the entire Ministry of Transit in China.) Cars are everywhere because there are roads to bring them there, which is great if you are a car and want to get from place to place fast without worrying about the in-between. 

Unfortunately, you are not a car. 

You are an animal. 

You are in-between. 

So remember to look both ways. 

No judging if you don’t want me to, free advise too if you want it.

 But really, I’ll listen to all your problems and rants :)

Reblog to let your followers know you are a safe person to come out to.

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES LETTER PROJECT

Starting this Thursday we will be sending letters to Netflix! Please prepare letters with all of your love for the show to convince Netflix to reverse their decision! 💜

Please use the following address: 5808 W. Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90028 US

Every other week will be a letter mailing week so everyone has time to prepare their letters to send them on the selected Thursday's! You can send as many as you want to Netflix HQ and show them just how much you love Dead Boy Detectives!

I saw a city die

However dramatic we make death out to be, really, a human death is quite easy. Your heart stops. Once. One kind of death for everyone.

Have you ever seen a city die? It's not one death. It's uncountable. A tree so big you can't watch its fall. Like you can't watch the sun travel. There it is. You get distracted. Something flashes on your wall. You look out. It is gone.

A city's deaths are very varied. Some are gardens dying. Some gardens don't die, but really they do. Really, they're dead.

Some are wild trees dying. The ones we watered by mistake, or by a thread of benevolence. Strung through palms and generations, maybe. A collective nurturing, and every solitary splash thought it was alone. They die, until they become the kind of sticks who's snaps are anonymous. There is nothing here.

Some are people leaving. There are a lot of those. But if you watch people leave, you notice they were the ones who came in the first place. Not the ones who already were.

The ones who already were always are. They are the city. Killing an elephant takes rounds of lead to the heart. Still it takes hours untill it falls, days until it stops breathing. It's not easy, killing a dragon. Those that are must be killed differently. They do not leave. But you can make their home hostile to them. Twist and contort it until those that are have no place to be. They find a new spot, of course. A new city. Who's life blood they aren't.

A city dies a hundred deaths. Like watching someone assemble a puzzle, it's not dramatic enough to watch the process. Like sand falling. Suddenly the glass is empty.

The problem is the body. It's our symbol, vessel and object of death. Without it we don't recognise decay.

Death of a city is the rarest thing you'll see. The bigger, the less you see it. The most imposing, the less you'll watch. The more lights, the less you notice the void.

Because it's a lie. And when you notice. Finally notice,

all you see are the whisps; floating. No sound. Unwatched. No meaning in silence. Nothing. Pathetic in the way they outline whatever isn't there anymore.

“𝐵𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐”.

– 𝑂𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑒