Relistened To Parade Day And Can Confirm This Line Still Hits

i grew up thinking love had to be dramatic.

that it needed to feel like chaos—

a rush of adrenaline,

complicated, spontaneous, a constant guessing game.

and sure, love can be like that.

it can burn hot and fast.

it can throw you into the sky

and drop you just as quickly.

but love can also be secure.

reassuring.

constant.

and i think that kind of love is beautiful.

the kind where someone chooses you,

not because you’re hard to get

or because there’s tension and mystery,

but simply because they see you

and they want you.

no questions.

no confusion.

no waking up and wondering where you stand.

just—

you and them.

side by side.

quietly, naturally.

you know they’ll be there tomorrow.

and the day after that.

and in a week, a month, a year.

and suddenly, you’re celebrating your tenth anniversary,

realizing love didn’t need to be loud to be extraordinary.

i’m tired of dramatic love.

i don’t want to burn.

i want to be held.

i want love that is quiet.

predictable.

safe.

because peace is not the absence of love—

it’s what love is supposed to bring.

I love them,,,

The other day I came up with this extremely derpy idea and chuckled to myself, so now it's an extremely derpy comic

"I want to be a dragon."

Wonderful poem / song lyrics

Dick Grayson

I was rambling on the issue of museums and human remains and how certain populations are more likely to have their bodies put on display to be gawked at and then went "well I guess the Pompeii casts were of Europeans. there are bones in there right?" and Googled it to make sure, at which point I confirmed that yes there are bones in there, but more interestingly DNA testing revealed that a cast of an adult holding a child everyone assumed was a mother and child were, in fact, a man and a kid entirely unrelated to him. Honestly that's more moving to me. Maybe they were connected in a way other than blood, but maybe a stranger saw a child when the world was ending and thought the one thing he could do was hold them.

Modern "news"

By sun.after.winter

Within this secret hut of ours

News still brews within the hour

Many stories, none told true

Who to trust, no one knew

Protests over propaganda

Truth told falsely, every mile

Dystopia on our horizon

America turns it's eyes

glad to know people will still be experiencing this video for the first time this daylight savings

Not poetry, but needs to be said.

Here is what my mother told me when I was young: the world is harsh. It is unforgiving and it has teeth. Take no shit.

Here is what I have learned from the world: it is wounded and the humans scattered throughout it are rarely the rats of Rat Park, they are the tired, trembling experiments in need of more kindness, not less. Do no harm.

Here's what I have learned from the world: humans are good. They are soft, and gentle, and they are wounded, all of them. When humans were young and wild, they looked at the snarling beasts that came to their fires, the ones with sharp teeth in their long muzzles, and they saw soft fur and the welcome-home wag of a tail.

Here is what I have seen: Given an opportunity, humans will choose creation and love. They will create art, and music, and community. They will tell each other stories, sing each other songs, help each other heal. Even without safety, even when it wounds them, they will love. They will love each other - their family, their friends, their mates - and they will love the world.

Here is what I have seen: there is hope. Sometimes it is ugly and twisted and burns, but humans will hold onto it with both hands and their entire heart. They will share it with one another. They will use it to tame beasts with fur and teeth as well as the ones that live inside of themselves. They will create because of it; they will say I hope this makes someone smile, I hope this makes someone cry. I hope this saves someone. And it will.

Here is what I know to be true: evidence of a healed broken bone from thousands of years ago reminds us that what makes us human isn't our wounds, but how we care for one another through them.

Here is what my mother told me: the world will gnash its sharp teeth at me. It will try to wound me.

Here is what I know to be true: I am human, and humans heal one another and can turn sharp teeth into wagging tails.