hm. i think every time i feel an impulse to people please, to be unproblematic and likable and charming and feel the safety that comes with universal adoration, i need to remind myself that i want to be loved like a person, not like a dog.

one of the best parts of making up increasingly wild and specific aus with a friend is sending them posts like "this is sooo blorbo in torture chamber au number 15" and they reply back like "YESSS btw have i told you about my latest idea for how to torture them even more" and you get to enjoy a little snack and kick your feet with glee

the horrors persist but so do books, art, hot chocolate, winter nights, the moon, the sea, the stars, sunsets, literature, libraries, cats, flowers, stories, love and the wistful feeling you get when you finally return home

ooooo i have to find grace for myself in the way that i find grace for others i have to find grace for myself in the way that i find grace for others i have to find grace for myself in the way that i find grace for others

nothing will save you like a moment of shared amusement with strangers on public transport

you have a disgusting storytelling addiction

It’s true. It goes back a long way, too. It all started when…