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you come to my house. you see this. 

“oh? you have kids?” “No” i reply. “…rabbits?” “No,” again I reply. you look closer. inside is a roomba. ‘its almost time to feed him!’ i say. your eyes ask a handful of questions, but you remain silent. i sprinkle a handful of dirt in the enclosure.

#be still my heart #i love it

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Super cool dude with lots of silly macros like this!

#lifegoals

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Sounds loads better than butterflies to me...

so I’ve been in a relationship for 5 years now. And I see a lot of posts about how people think relationships mean having butterflies forever, your heart beating faster when they walk into a room, about cuddling together every night, legs intertwined, that you’d be so happy to live together you’d sleep on a double bed with each other every night.

And its not really like that, at least not to me.

You stop getting the butterflies when you live together. Your heart no longer speeds up when you see them, but instead, everything calms down. When youre in the room with them, you feel calm, and secure. When you cuddle them you feel your heart beat slow, and the sound of their breathing carry you towards comfort. It doesnt feel like a roller coaster anymore, it feels like home.

You don’t sleep curled up with each other every night, legs twisted between theirs so tight its hard to tell where yours begin and theirs end.

Instead, you sleep comfortably, side by side, sometimes facing different directions. But every night, you find yourself scooting backwards on the bed so you bump into them. You snuggle against their arm, or stroke their hair as they fall asleep. There are nights when my boyfriend, in his sleep, reaches around me and pulls me to him, like a child with his teddybear, like I am his comfort.

 In the wee hours of the morning before the dawn breaks, when the world is blue and you see through cracked eyes, you curl into their chest and inhale their scent before drifting back to sleep. 

Kisses aren’t always romantic and firey anymore. But there are so much more of them now. There are cold kisses when you’re eating ice cream in the summer, and sticky kisses over breakfast pancakes. There’s “im leaving now” kisses, and “one more kiss before you go” kisses. There’s sleepy morning kisses before work, when you don’t remember the alarm going off but instead the press of their lips against yours is what brings you into the day.

There’s kisses before sleep, and, you are so sweet with the things you do kisses. There’s kisses because you treat animals so tenderly, and I’m so glad i’m with you and not someone else kisses. There’s quick kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, when its loud and you gravitate together, when instead of having your own personal space and their own personal space, its both of yours together, and you step into their chest to take up less area together. 

You don’t always text each other with confessions of love and care like you used to, because that’s a given now, and you’ve moved on to quirky inside jokes about the life youve built together. You share looks of exasperation and amusement in public, your own little world against the outside one. 

Relationships aren’t always a fairy tale. They’re not always fireworks and sparks, at least, after the start.

But they are a quiet rhythm and hum of love and care. It’s not a fire in your soul, but one in your hearth, keeping you warm and comfortable, comforting you as you drowsily drift into sleep.

And I love that.

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i still get upset about robin williams. he was very little to me; meant more to my brother, spoke the best lines in my favorite movies, was a stunning actor. but i, in my head, never paid much attention to things like fame, and loved him like a distant uncle, but distant indeed. i can’t watch those movies the same way. i think about what was chasing him, what was chasing me.

some people tell me they won’t be missed. their lives are not sparks but dull, the regular, the forgettable. that their absence would be a small celebration, that when they left the burden would evaporate and somebody else, somebody better, would spill in waves to fill the empty space. that the forgettable get forgot, that the unexceptional are only spared half of a thought.

but i love the man who let me turn left at a busy intersection even though he had right of way today and i’m still thinking about him. i’m still thinking about the teenage girl i taught four years ago who was spiraling, who came to me and whispered she wasn’t planning on an eighteenth year - who was out of my hands, who was “taken care of” who i tried my hardest for and who still disappeared like smoke in the air. i still think about the girl in my dance class who, when we were both seven, taught me the magic potion of fingers and throats, who kept a secret, who reached out to me just once later to say, “remember when we were young and i was unafraid” and i said yes, we threw barbie heads at the ceiling, and she said, “i’m calling from inpatient. i never forgot that you were my friend. thank you for that. that’s it. the end.”

and i tell myself the names of others or i pass their features over my eyes. i think about how our dreams can’t make up faces and how each night like a litany i bring back people to fill in seats, and how some of these people are dead, and how i wake up and barely know them and still miss them. and i tell myself that with all this love i have in a bucket that if i dropped into the sky and took off with myself and painted myself into the ground - i say i’m mediocre. i couldn’t bear it if someone else went off but if i did that’s just fine. the world needs less poets. the world needs less open mouths. the world needs less of me and more people who can function properly. 

and i know you’re reading this and most likely you’ve felt the same thing. that everybody has a life that’s precious unless it’s you, and your untalented unproductive unhelpful self, with heavy hands and a little too much rust in the places that should shine. so here’s the deal. i’ll make a promise and if you keep yours, i’ll keep mine.

if you won’t die, then i won’t die. and we two can live in distant orbits around each other, admiring each other like the other is robin williams, planets that never speak, only listen, two stars with our own complicated galaxies we feel swallowed by - but if you won’t die, then i won’t die.

and if you keep yours, i’ll keep mine. and we’ll remember each other. and we’ll fill up the sky.

#Can I pin this post? #Wow #Inspirational #motivation #Suicide

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The number of times I've looked for my phone, to Google something, while being on the phone with someone... <Jimmy-McMillan/>.

If brains are biological computers, why don’t we lag?

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Maybe we can pretend this was his actual goal.

s3a-of-lov3

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👌

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Mimes are the opposite of ghosts. You can see mimes but can't see what they interact with. You can't see ghosts but can see what they interact with.

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The effort that people must put into copying and pasting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ from the internet really goes against the ethos of the shoulder shrug.

#truth

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I was made for new friendships and rejuvenating old ones. I was made for music and photography, for documentaries. I was made for protest tattoos, declaring permanent truths across my body in case I forgot again. I was made for speaking my mind. I was made for taking chances. I was made for internships in new cities, for new beginnings. I was made for choosing hope, through three years (and counting) of counseling.

Kendra Larsen, “What I Do Know” (via twloha)