^so everything in the world is comprised of the same basic stuff?
^carbon. being the most important.
^then///how come everything can be so entirely different?
^bc the little stuff. the other stuff. the stuff unique and the stuff that’s different from the same basic stuff, that stuff makes us different. we have all the basic, but the combinations of the others w.these basics///
^you’re rambling. but okay. like everyone can be a puzzle, but no puzzle the same picture.
People Types (Airport Series)
Yoga Pant/College Sweatshirt Wearing Girls: If you travel in packs, you all have different colored neck pillows swinging from the handles of your Vera Bradley duffle bags. Of course what’s a trip to the airport without a stop at the Starbucks kiosk. You jokingly giggle to one another that 7:30 am isn’t too early to grab a drink at the bar, and how hilarious would it be if some dashing co-pilot bought you said drink.
Fedora Wearing Middle Aged Women: Understandably, you’re going on a tropical vacation with your family. You’re rocking an awesome pedicure with your wedged open toe shoes, so that you get to walk the high traffic floor of the TSA scan in bare feet, but hey your toes sparkle. Your trip will consist of week at a wealthy white person resort, while 5 miles away everyone who works at the resort lives in semi-impoverished conditions, but man do they give good massages.
Guy Who Wears Cargo Pants: Who would have thought your baggie pockets would cause so many problems? The overly enthusiastic elderly gentleman working the other side of the security gate has to search your cargo pockets, obviously. All of the crazy stuff you store in there is immensely interesting. Out comes your used Kleenex, filled with your spring allergy phlegm, there’s the hard candies you stole from the clerk’s table at the bank yesterday. Man, you’re really rethinking these cargo pants, aren’t you? And of course that gorgeous fedora wearing soccer mom, with the fancy toenails was behind you and was witness to the whole embarrassing myriad of garbage living in your pants pockets. Now you’re really self-conscious.
Super Tall Guy Trying to Nap on the Impossible to Nap on Chairs at the Gate: You’re a whole foot taller than your girlfriend, but that won’t stop you from trying to catch some Zzzzzz’s before your flight takes off. Slouching down in your chair, you bring your head down to her should level, but at this point you’re already so far down in your chair that your butt is almost off the edge of your seat. Of course you don’t want to trip anyone, but you’re uncomfortably long legs are sprawled out into the aisle. That unnecessarily over energetic little kid runs by, because no parent can control their child at an airport. In all her pigtailed and overexcited energy, she trips over your monster feet. You should probably wait the hour and half until you board the plane.
Sassy TSA Agent: Being a pleasant TSA agent is like being the welcome wagon to the gate of the Underworld, here’s your customary t-shirt and here’s your overly oppressive reset of eternity. You try your hardest to maintain that friendly smile and hearty go-getter attitude, but man oh man you’ve been at this damned airport since midnight. Here comes some 20 something, spoiled brat leaving for spring break. You give her the customary, “How are you?” Then she says she’s tired. WHAT?! She relays to you that she had to get up at 4:30 this morning in order to make her flight to Arizona. Dumb bitch. Seriously, so you tell her that you’ve been here since midnight, and will be here until noon. She doesn’t seem very impressed or at all sympathetic, but of course what a strain for her.
Guy in Suit With a Briefcase: Taking off your black shiny shoes was demeaning. Even in the much shorter Business Class security line, you still had to reduce yourself to a normal human being, and you’re not okay with this. As you strut down the concourse in all your importance, you stop and get your shoes shined, because dammit you deserve this. Scuffs gone and you’re feeling good. You walk over to the complimentary business class lounge. After ordering your Mimosa and settle in, you read through your Washington Post tweets, got keep up on current events. The flight attendant, pretty nice ass, comes and says that they’re ready to board you. You definitely plan to order a drink from her later, and of course the company will pick up your tab.
OB. (via wedrivearoundandshedrivesuswild)
~~This is beautiful. The passage captures exactly the pain of living. We can’t be afraid of death, because death is nothing. It doesn’t exist, because after it happens, nothing happens. At least as far as we know. The things we fear in life are the pains we have to live through.
Sometime. When you’re done crying on the bathroom floor. When you can poke your head of the shower. When you’ll let me warm your hands. I’d like to tell you that I love you. And that the world is miserable. But somehow that’s okay.
You know them when you come upon them. They’re unmistakable things really. Taller than the rest with outstretched arms. Perfect nooks for feet and hands to grab and rest. Perfect limbs to sit and think and read and hope and whistle and nap. Just have good balance. When your head breaks the canopy. And you see the overwhelming green being lightly whispered by the air. You know.
Colder weather gives each arm a voice. With every step and reach and pull. The limbs creak under your weight. Some snap and fall to the ground below. Of course if it gives way. You fall with it. Into the snow and ice beneath you.
Warmer weather lets you stay longer. Think longer. Get lost longer. You watch the change of the sun. Feel the rays caress each bevel. The songs the animals. The places where they play. Where you play.
When the leaves start to crunch. And your body knocks them down as you climb. You notice how the red burn. And the yellow wane. Some brown. But the twigs grow bear.
When they grow again. In the renewing time. The light green bulbs are easy to crush. The juice is sticky and when you rip back the first layer the light green mixes with a startling white. At least amongst the young ones.
Breaking the young ones. Is Bad. It Stops them from becoming the big ones. The big ones. Perfect to sit and think and read and hope and whistle and nap. Just have good balance.
Preface: unrequited love is never a laughing matter. it’s a pain so real and terrifying. one everyone goes through. society will tell you to pull yourself together. to ask the question. to face your fear. but it’s a real fear. it’s real pain. it’s not being over dramatic. it’s not being a coward. it’s being stuck. stuck in an emotion that accompanies a tremendous amount of passion with a crucial amount of pain. the hopeless romantics, are not hopeless, nor should they be ridiculed. they live within this hope. one that many refuse to face. one that many can never connect to. they choose to live within this. to me, that’s the most courageous thing you could possibly do. [end of digression(y) rant]
it’s unnerving. in a way that really has no clarification. in a way that feels like nothing else and everything else all at the same time. not embarrassing, not comforting, just the situation i continually find myself in, even though all i do is strive to avoid it. it lives within this horrible combination of absolute fury and the most sincere test of patience, the strongest feelings you can have, the greatest fear you could imagine, the greatest joy it could possibly bring you, and the greatest despair you could go through. and everyone’s felt it at some point, but to you, to you alone it always will be wholly personal. that thing you think no one else could understand, but in a way how could they? it’s your experience, your frustration, your entire being, being poured into the most futile of instances. but it matters. it causes you to feel, to want, to cry. the fear though. the fear is what leaves it in that entirely divided, entirely separate space. so that even with a few words you could have your answer, but you don’t want the answer, because the answer has a good chance of not being the one you want it to be and that’s the fear all over again. so you live in that fear. you let it keep you in that space that you hate and yet still gives you the most tiniest bit of hope.
i remember that it hurt. looking at him hurt. the memory of that won’t fade. that utter confusion of the pain mixed with the overwhelming want and the slightest hint of hope. it’s the surest way to drive a person insane. forever drives me insane. never fully wrapping my head around that which was right there next to me, in front of me, and yet the furthest thing i could possibly imagine.
Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness. In acting on the feelings of your heart, you defy the cruelty of the world. Empathy and compassion does not make you weak.
It is impossible to be heading in the direction of nowhere.
"Where are you?" he asked.