ppl r transfixed by the things they felt when they were young bcuz it’s when everything was new and important and possible..like even when it hurt so bad u thought u were gonna die, u also thought somewhere in the back of ur mind that it was gonna end soon like, that u were gonna wake up one day and be done w those feelings, so they had this certain kind of shine.,,, there’s a small amount of time before u realize that once u start growing up u never stop for the rest of ur life. and it’s so different. 

If we don’t microdose delusion we won’t make it through this reality babe….

love isn’t just a feeling, it’s a responsibility. it’s a promise to care for and protect someone. love means never turning your back one someone when things get difficult. love as a feeling alone is selfish, the commitment is what makes it true.

[ID: A photograph of a page from a book. The section title is in bold and reads, “You Shall Know Us By Our Teeth.” The body text reads: “As a poor Dyke, I think about my teeth a lot. I have a memory of a day spent swimming at a lesbian-owned retreat when the subject of dentists came up. One Dyke, a dental student, asked, ‘What kind of parents wouldn’t provide their children with something as important as dental care?’ shaking her head in what I think must be disapproval. No one says anything. My friends, a group of ten Dykes from upper-middle-class, middle-class and working-class backgrounds, change the subject. I grow quiet as I think of my childhood, of not having gone to the dentist until I was in my mid-teens (and only then because I was visiting relatives who felt obligated to take me), of having teeth pulled because they were too decayed to fill, of knowing that what stood between the pain of an infected tooth and the relief of novocaine was something as simple and elusive as a couple of twenty-dollar bills. Shame washes over me as I realize that I am the type of person the dental student is talking about, shame that my parents couldn’t manage money better, shame that there wasn’t more money to manage. Yet, I am more ashamed of myself for whining about it. We believed we didn’t have it all that bad. Other people had it far worse. I have the urge to stop this playful group, this group of friends that have gone on to other topics, and tell them, ‘The answer to that question is my kind of parents, my parents couldn’t provide their kids with dental care.’ But as I watch my friends playfully splashing each other, gossiping about friends and lovers on a sunny summer afternoon, there is no context to talk about poverty, about scarcity. So I keep my mouth shut, for my mouth is one of the places I carry evidence of my poverty. My younger sister was the only kid in my family to have braces. When I knocked out one…” The rest of the text is cut off. End ID]

Reconsider.

“In my opinion, camp is simply a matter of doing things as if you are doing them. Diving into a swimming pool? Throw your arms heavenward and give it the full Esther Williams treatment. When you dive into a pool as if you are diving into a pool, as opposed to executing an earnest quotidian plop, the result is magical—that pool is transformed from a grody Band Aid–strewn chlorine bath into a veritable LAGOON! Smoking a cigarette? Perform the action as if you are a French existentialist.” — Simon Doonan, Transformer: A Story of Glitter, Glam Rock & Loving Lou Reed