me n my plant gf

Haruki Murakami, from South of the Border, West of the Sun (Alfred A. Knopf, 1999)

Molly’s back on tumblr! Did you miss her?

perhaps, I am not broken, I just need someone who understands when I say machine I mean be patient with me. I mean, don’t be surprised if you go to touch me & I’ve already left out the back window. perhaps, someone snuck in one night & replaced my bones with fire escapes & that’s why I understand the world best as an exit.

— Brandon Melendez, from “Note on Demisexuality,” published in ANMLY

You were the moon going down below the trees at night. Oh honey, arent you something. Arent you the prettiest thing this side of the river. When you laugh it sounds like bells and I am destroyed, aching, burning for the taste of your lips.

when the sun came out i was lost in it. you were the field before the fire. the storm before the break. i understood the holy in the span of your wings. hello godly, hello heaven, hello a breaking i knew the name of.

(A collab with @inkskinned)

baby! i look at you and my heart remembers the time when my atoms were a mossy log, all ray of sun. you make me remember a summer i never had. feel like a future where we live with our rescue dogs and greenhouses. make you more flower crowns. when i dance with you it feels easy, one-two-three. like kitchens are ballrooms.

i been lookin for ways to tell you i miss you but they always seem so silly. the glow of your eyes puts a sun in my spine. hearing you laugh is a meadow i never want to stop running in. i want to spend all my time finding ways to fill up your life. you’re warm cookies. good coffee at sunrise. a book and soft socks and rain on the rooftop. 

I made this and showed it to a friend. She said I should post it, so here we are.

This is it.

This is officially the best thing I’ve ever seen.

“And remember: the sky is the limit! You can be anything you want to be!”

“Thank you. I want to be a secretary.”

That stopped them short. “What?”

“A secretary,” she repeated.

“But…” they trailed off, dumbfounded. “Why? You could be a CEO, a scientist, a law–”

“I don’t want to be a CEO,” she said. “I want to be a secretary.”

They scoffed. “You want to answer phones all day?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“Schedule appointments?”

“I like organizing.”

“Be a second banana?”

An affirmative nod. “I’m skilled at helping.”

“I just don’t understand,” they said. “HOW could you be okay with all of this?!”

“I enjoy the work.”

“BUT YOU CAN BE WHATEVER YOU WANT TO BE!”

“I know.”

“Then WHY?!”

She shrugged.

“Because I want to be a secretary.”

Honestly though, this is very similar to my mom’s experience. She’s always been super bright, but has realized as she’s gotten older that intellectual pursuits just aren’t her jam. She dropped out of her PhD program to have kids, and although she has her master’s and was a pretty good school psychologist, she hated having to make huge decisions. She’s a church secretary now and loves it, and she’s GOOD at it; she’s letting her school psych certification permanently expire this year with zero regrets. If you can be anything you want, that includes the things we don’t tend to value as highly as a society. Not everybody is built for or wants the “respectable” careers.

My grandma did this to me, saying that i didn’t want to get stuck on the outside, making coffee and filing papers. The thing is, that’s exactly what I’ve always enjoyed the most, making and organizing things. That would be enough for me.

Nobody seems to realize that if you tell people they can be anything they want to be they will. And not everyone WANTS to be doctors or lawyers or CEOs or scientists. Sometimes, they just want to be a secretary.

it took me a LOT of therapy before i was able to shrug off the effects of the Gifted Child Upbringing enough to realize that what i really wanted to be was a house husband and Local Queerdad who writes novels sometimes. god, i’m so much happier now.

ain’t nothing wrong with an ordinary life. don’t let anybody tell you you have to be the top dog to be worth anything.

There’s nothing wrong with a simple life. Be whatever you want to be,

If you’re happy, you’ve made it. That’s the real definition of success.

Concept: sleepy kisses in the dark, smiling against your lips.

If your friends don’t do this at your funeral, are they really your friends??????

And the sobbing is what KILLS me

i envy the universe & Her super- nova breath; some days i beg Horizon for her ability to 

collapse— maybe she can teach me? maybe i am finally ready to escape my -self

— George Abraham, from “self-portrait as melting clock,” al youm: for yesterday & her inherited traumas

Leslie Harrison, from “[Sirens],” The Book of Endings   (via lifeinpoetry)

the first time i tried to reblog this my tab immediately ran out of memory and honestly i think its an omen

Nobody on Earth will ever be as powerful as this guy’s roommate was

Andrés Cerpa, from “Relapse,” published in Foundry (via lifeinpoetry)