Welcome

I love you:

The words I gave you

So you could tear me to pieces

Or hold onto me

I gave you my heart

So you could make it bleed

Or wrap your arms around me

I gave you my thoughts

So you could choose to destroy them

Or fill them

I gave you my life

So you could burn it

But you decided to save it

-- by me

this... this hit me

this whole movie hit me, and it's not even the first time I've watched it

Failure is not an option desktop wallpaper

Images taken from Visions of the Future

and then... *dramatic pause* …she took a nap!

I brought you cookies, but my ulterior motive is that now I get to see you smile

my best friend: *exists*

me: *yelling like she's hard of hearing and shaking her by the shoulders to get my point across* I LOOOOOVVVEEE YOOOOOUUUU!!!!!!!

I was thinking about how poetry is all about the human experience, and that led to wondering about experiences that most people don't get to have. This all led me to wondering whether there were any poems written by astronauts, and I found this one, which I thought I'd share.

Last Day in Space

Tomorrow we light our rocket,           we burn our engines and likewise,                    burn a hole in the sky,                              And thus fall to Earth. How does one spend your last day in space?           Looking at Earth,                    a blue jewel surrounded by inky blackness,                              Pure Occipital Ecstasy. Unconstrained by your girth,           you fly with vestigial wings. The atmosphere on edge,           iridescent blue with no earthly parallel,                    Electrifying Diaphanous Beauty. Guarded by Sirens of Space,           singing saccharine songs,                    beckoning you to crash on the atmos-reef which tears you limb from limb                    and scorching what remains                             into cosmic croutons that sprinkle onto                                        the garden salad of Earth. One last feast out the window,           A looking glass of Wonderland. Offering both a portal to see your world,                    and a translucent reflection to see yourself. Contemplation;           what is your place in this world below,                    how do you change it,                              how does it change you. We are wedded to this planet,           until mass extinction we do part.                    Perhaps one planet is not enough. You study your charts,           we prepare our spaceship,                    and our minds. We make ready our descent,           into these seemingly gentle arms. The eager anticipation of hugging your wife,           your boys with grins followed by pouting faces,                    both excited to see you but not understanding why you left. Oh how does one spend your last day in Space.           What would you do?

-- Donald R. Pettit

(A NASA astronaut who has been on three space flights, with 370 days in space. I found this poem on the NASA website.)

I thought I wanted to be busy again.

Now I'm busy.

It sucks.

I just want to sleep.

You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy … because you understand them, and they do not understand you.

One time in 1st grade I forgot that 3-2=1, and after I turned it in with the wrong answer I realized what it was, and my teacher wouldn't let me go back and change it and I cried. That was literally the only time I ever cried about math, but I guess it counts

ok wait, reblog if you’ve cried at least once because of math, doesn’t matter which grade i’m trying to prove something