ya boy dont know shit

31 days of maxiel masterpost :)

playlist ; on ao3

Daniel was not, strictly speaking, a Taylor Swift fan. He had ears, obviously, so he’d heard his fair share of her music over the years; his girlfriends had typically been into her music, too. It meant he knew the popular songs and there were maybe a couple tracks on folklore that hit a little too close to home, but nothing wild. So, when his girlfriend told him that Taylor Swift had dropped a new album, he didn’t really think anything of it. 

Over the next few days, he assumed that’s what she was listening to in the apartment. Over and over. But he couldn’t fault her for that because he could get the same way. It wasn’t a big deal. 

Then he had a phone call with Max. It was just about coordinating flights and taxis and boring shit so it didn’t matter that T. Swift was loud in the background. 

I love you, it’s ruining my life. 

Max laughed loudly at something barely funny that Daniel said; his chest warmed at the sound, something content and pleased re-making it’s presence known. Daniel’s thoughts stuttered to a very distinct, “Oh. Oh no.”

hey, what the fuck? i haven’t been on tumblr in over a month? so check your fucking notes again because whoever you’ve got an issue with,,,, wasn’t me.

anyway, got the notif for this and it made me upsetti spaghetti and i’m not good at letting things go,,, not actually back tho because this site makes me want to throw up from anger and anxiety

love and light, even to this shitty person 💛

so, anyway, i have NOT been having a good time recently and so i will be endeavoring to disappear off the internet

when i was in seventh grade, we went on a trip to washington d.c. and one of the girls i roomed with gave me her number and told me that she gets so many texts that sometimes she misses some, so if she didn't respond just text a couple more times and she'd respond.

i texted half a dozen times and she never texted back.

when i was in eighth grade, we took a survey of foreign languages class and one of the girls at my desk clump told me that she'd follow me back on instagram if i liked every single one of her pictures.

i liked years worth of pictures and she never followed me back.

when i was in tenth grade, my best friend told me that he like-liked me and when i couldn't say that back, he gave me a reese's (two peanut butter cups) and said that we never had to talk about it again.

i wanted to want him so badly and when i did, he'd already moved on.

when i was in twelfth grade, i got drunk for the first time in my friend's bedroom on green apple vodka that her older brother had gotten for us and when we were lying in her bed together she told me that she liked me.

i lied and said i didn't like anyone like that.

in season 3 episode 11 of the west wing, josh lyman tells his on-again-off-again girlfriend that he studied hard all through high school and college and "i missed something, or it's like i skipped a year, because i never learned what you do after you think you like somebody. what you do next. and everybody-everybody did learn, a lot of other people anyway."

i never learned how to study, but i still skipped that year.

i can't tie the threads of my own life together; i can't web weave my way out of this and into meaning. i just missed a step somewhere - a step that everybody else took. and maybe all the other steps after that, too.