Eternally Confused

well maybe you should blearily wake up at 5:08 in the pre-dawn light and find the sleeping soft tiny mammal body of your cat just inches from your head like a miracle too beautiful for speech, and you should rustle one hand out from your blankets to rub fingertip circles across the warm eggshell dome of her little velvet-wrapped skull and on the bristly patches just where the cups of her ears begin, and as she inclines her head into your fingers and purrs without ever opening her little eyes you should feel a love so tender that you understand how that love could have reached out from the fireside into the inky spangled nights long gone to reach her, and then you'll feel better

[Image ID: Tumblr tag from hotTubSharts reading: and then maybe she'll wake you again at 6 to the sound of her puking on the floor. maybe /End ID]

you can have multiple most gorgeous looking women giving performance of their lifetime in a movie or show yet people will still come out obsessing & wanting to fuck a white man with the personality of a wet cardboard

I kind of miss the impulsivity that certain spaces used to allow. oh you want a hair cut today? hairdresser in the corner can fit you in before her 2 o’clock. tattoo of a cobra… sure leg or arm? even concerts, back when you could go to the box office thirty mins before any show. not saying these things don’t exist at all, but everything feels booked five months in advance and 10x more expensive

There is… a lot going on here.

A super long audio book with just silence and an “oh, out loud?” at the end

Mary Magdalene washing Christ's feet

I love how every time I log on, this site attains new levels of heresy. I can't wait to see what is next.

in a hotel room very cautiously removing my clothing slowly and constantly looking around the room shifty and scared as fuck anticipating attacks while a beautiful pair of women sitting side by side on the bed in matching lingerie excitedly but restrained with carefully lowered vioices cheer me on. they say Yes thats it thats how sex works! youre doing it right yeah! youve got it keep going! and im finally down to a sports bra and one tube sock when a car alarm putside startles me and i lunge for the empty handgun on the floor and put it in my mouth while they panic and scramble trying to calm me down petting my hair and cooing gently

I have incurable Woman In The Margins Of The Story disorder.

She’s dead she’s immortal she’s haunting you she doesn’t care about you she’s muzzled she’s screaming at the top of her lungs she’s unnoticed she’s unforgettable she doesn’t have control over the story she doesn’t have control over her body she doesn’t even have control over her voice. And I’m obsessed with her.

This story isn’t about her but there would be no story without her. She’ll never get out of it and she’ll never die.