It's my blog and I cry if I want to.

i may have my father's worst traits but i am more ethical & virtuous with them than him

proposing a new historical framework called “the very long nineteenth century: we’re still in it”

we have not left the early modern period and frankly i have my doubts that we ever will

Reblog and put in the tags your favorite fictional character with a disability.

not doomed by the narrative but saved by the narrative. yeah i know you'd rather die than keep suffering but the story doesn't actually care what you want. you have to keep going, even when it hurts. even being erased from existence won't stop you from being salvaged from the wreckage of un-being. get up. keep pushing. keep bleeding. keep living.

What they don’t tell you about speaking multiple languages is that your brain does not in fact have a box labeled Spanish and another one labeled German. Instead it has a box labeled “Not English” and sometimes when you’re talking or writing in one of the languages you speak it will just start pulling random words from that box.

I just wrote down “Tengo eine Katze” and then put my head in my hands