Repeat After Me: I Will Not Make Myself Small For Other People's Convenience.

i can tell i'm sleep deprived bc i just made myself cry about tutankhamun and i have, like, negative interest in the kid

"Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry."

-Holden Caulfield

it's so important for your health and well-being to get overly attached to a fictional man who is both deeply amoral and unbelievably, pathetically sad

okay but what if i tell you i really like watching you read under the sun or in the rain or all curled up in warm duvet in dark winters by the fire or on a train ride back home? what if i tell you i enjoy watching your eyebrows do their little dance when the author throws another plot twist at your face or the way you bite your lips because you really can't wait to know everything about that one character who really is the hero but isn't given enough credit? what if i tell you i see you when you try to hide behind your smile? what if i tell you it's a privilege to love you?

Remember when Fleabag said, ""I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. I want someone to tell me what to wear EVERY morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, who to love and how to tell them."

The last line made me think about this a lot. It's okay to be dependent for a bit, rest ourselves on someone else's shoulder without feeling like we are living a cliché.

actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty then to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do.

entomologists are the most fucking wild people ive ever met

i pointed out a cool wasp to one and she just picked it up with her bare hands and started showing me different features she was using to identify the species

on a walk with another one he just paused, turned, violently shoved his hand into some rotting wood and offered me a tunnel web spider like oh okay i guess-

I think it's beautiful how cute we get when we are lonely. Calling up our bestfriend to talk about just anything before they ask if anything's wrong. Telling them it is, you are intimidated by the changing ways of life because you were finally getting used to the quiet life. Remembering school and your after school ice-cream dates, driving up to that quiet place behind school property where you can see the most beautiful sunset in the city. Writing I miss you and wish you were here to each other. Telling each other, you'll meet soon. Hugging your pillow and falling asleep to the playlist they made you on one of your birthdays. My heart is too fragile for reminiscence. I don't know how to contain all these so I sleep.

there are days when my name lingers on the inside of your mouth; too reluctant to be explicit, too obvious to be discreet.

and it makes both of us tiptoe around each other till you say, "one last time" and spend the night in my dad's t-shirt that i always forget to bring back home. we have a hard time returning things, you and i. we make a home out of borrowed items because the reality of owning something that's just ours is scary; we are not who we wanted to be and if any of us got any closer to what we prayed for, i am not sure we'll recognize what we see. right now, i see you with my blurry vision because i can't find my glasses again and you have no idea how to look for things. you once told me you only started missing your grandma after she was buried. you do that; confess bizarre things just after coming. i don't mind it but i think i love you only when you are falling asleep beside me. the rest of the time we spend together, i nurture a mild hatred towards you so that we don't promise each other a forever we will grow to resist. well, even our hypotheticals are a calculated risk. there are days when your name lingers on the roof of my mouth so i just shove my tongue down yours so that we can never talk about anything real; reality bites, i'm sure you've noticed.

leave me alone, i am self diagnosing my mental illnesses

Alias Grass ‘cause we go from grass to grace