Little kid me simultaneously adored and detested her stuffed animals. She loved them so much that every night she would crowd in to bed with all fifty of them so that they’d be safe from the alligators under the bed. But this created tension in her relationship with the stuffed animals because she often had no room in bed for herself, and she began also to resent them. And she dreaded holidays like Christmas and Easter when under the tree and in the Easter basket would be a brand new stuffed animal for her to take care of. As she got older the animals began to migrate, several at a time, in to the attic, until they were all gone. And big kid me often avoids looking in to the giant box of stuffed animals in the attic, for fear of an overwhelming sense of guilt.
what if we’re all fictional characters and god and satan are arguing about our canon sexualities
(Source: draganne, via lgbtlaughs)
“The best part about writing is discovering what you believe”
-Gustave Flaubert
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Talk about the moon by Brendan Power & Andrew White
Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.
from Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman.
Applying to colleges makes me realize how much I don’t want to go to college.
Louis Armstrong’s La Vie en Rose
