“Sometimes you are going to miss a person who was an almost to you. And feel sad because there is no name for that feeling. You just feel it in a way that makes you tired to your very bones.”
— Nikita Gill, Almost Feelings
My AP Psych teacher from high school keeps binders and notebooks with dicks drawn on them to use as visual aids for the Freudian unit.
One time she did this life changing little “experiment” where she ever so calmly asked guys why they draw penises on things. They tried to say “it’s just funny” or “you don’t understand” and she just kept saying “you’re right, I don’t understand. Explain to me. You already know what a penis looks like, why do you have to draw it on things? Are you marking it? Are you tagging it? Girls don’t draw vaginas on things.” And the guys suddenly started questioning their motives for everything they do and one guy was like “ms, stop talking about penises, you’re making us uncomfortable.” And she shouted “HOW DO YOU THINK WE FEEL SEEING DICKS DRAWN ON STUFF ALL THE TIME?”
Always reblog
I wanna buy her a beer
The generation that forcibly put soap in the mouth of children for using “dirty language” weighing in on the tide pod situation.
ANSJDJFNJGJGGGNTJTK
Does anyone else have a hard time believing that somebody will wanna stay with you forever bc same
We shouldn’t talk about it. We shouldn’t talk about it because we might ruin it. We might ruin everything we have, everything we might’ve been. The memories are just memories, the feelings just feelings. But if we start to label them, untangle them, we might not like what we’re left with. Things get tainted and complicated, and the waters might be murky now, but at least our desires are clear and I’d rather love you in private than avoid you in public. We shouldn’t talk about it because talking about it might mean the end of it, might mean goodbye. And I don’t want to say goodbye- to this, to you. If I could, I would pull you in my arms and hold youand hug and love you and kiss you forever, for the rest of my life, for the rest of my days. I’m saying I love you and I want you and I’d choose you, if only you could choose me. But you’re leaving, and I’m gonba miss you like I’d miss breathing. So right now can we not talk about it? Can we not talk about all the girls after you and guys after me or anyone who lays in your bed that isn’t me? Can we act like it’s just me? Like it’s just me and you and life never got in our way and we’ll never have to say goodbye? That’s the paradise I’m living in- please don’t make me leave.
MK Ireland #255 : stolen paradise
me: *opens a message 2 seconds after waking up* haha… i’ll reply to this later… *snoozes*
me two weeks later: wait a minute… Fuck