Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), Poem 85 From “The Gardener”, 1914 Translated By The Author From

I often find myself dreaming of my future house. The windows are open, the floor is clean, and dinner is made while music sings. I will have shed the resistant apathy of this life and the flowers of spring will have bloomed through the barren winter of my soul.

But today, I only dream.

Robert Frank Nude (Marie) with Cat, 1950

ya gotta stop caring what people think and start being extremely weird. but never cruel. i think that might save you

the empty queen: my life is for the people of naboo

star wars meets the eras of feminism, valerie estelle frankel / attack of the clones script third draft, cut dialogue / the phantom menace script / anne carson / judith herman / star wars tales #5, terry moore / constance grady

you were a touch of lips that breathed air into my stuttering lungs an arm around my shoulders that sparked my fluttering heart a first-aid kit stitching my anger back together a cool press of fingers swiping gentle against the fever and then you were the whisper of a bullet guarding my six the glint of a sniper scope that struck hope, not fear the heavy march of boots always right behind mine

it was you. it was you. it was always you.

and i always knew i would have died a hundred times over without you.

you are echoes in the empty chambers of my heart screams in the air that clamour in my lungs a nightmare repeating like a skipping record you are still seventy years of empty spaces a ghost that still lives and breathes and screams a memory that lingers in my every footstep

i never did learn how to live without you.

and i should have known when my heart stubbornly kept on beating that you were not gone.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

realizing that sticking to the "do it bad" "do it scared" mentality implies theres also a "do it bored"

I had to read this one book for school and after I'd finished I sat down and just. Seethed. I'd just spent multiple hours reading when I didn't want to. I wrote essays that weren't 30% as heartfelt as the average Tumblr post about how excited we are about a new episode of smth. Because I was being judged on it and criticised on it and why would I be vulnerable.

It was a good book. That's what made me so angry. It was a good book and I'd have enjoyed it if it weren't eternally connected to an unfair German teacher and tense hours reading as fast as I could now.

"It's okay if you don't want to read the classics" okay but you should try. Books hit different when you're not being forced to read them.

Soft and Safe

I have a friend, let's call her Soft and Safe.

Let's call her that because it's shorter than Fluttering butterflies and excited hands waving, lilac purple capris and silk blouse, also soft ripped jeans and oversize hoodie. It's shorter than the Life of the party, social butterfly, but also sleepover deep talk.

She was the first one to fully support me when I came out as bi. She's still the one I feel most comfortable telling my insecurities to.

She's physically beautiful, yes, with brown curls and doe eyes, but more like her soul would make any body beautiful, you get it? It really doesn't matter how she looks. Does that make sense?

I know Soft and Safe doesn't see herself this way, so this is my way of telling her. A Tumblr post she'll never see.

Because all Soft and Safe sees is her flat chest and her acne prone skin. All she sees is that she was asked to the ball last in dance class last year. She was recently told she has depression, and she said "yeah, checks out." I don't think she sees how much I admire her, and want her to stay in my life forever. But I never told her.

So, how can you be sure you're not someone's Soft and Safe?