Beautiful Things

“He wanted to share his panda with the other dog, but it turns out the other dog already has the EXACT SAME PANDA. Very suspicious…”

Unbothered

There’s a friend of mine. He’s a guy. He’s done a lot for me and I love him in a very naive platonic kind of way. They was you do your best friends.

When he gets happy his nose crinkles and his voice cracks and when he’s sad he gets the deeply pensive and world weary look and he’s always wearing shirts with holes in them.

He’s got two kids and the way he behaves with them just makes my traumatized heart hurt because he’s so gentle and wholesome and it’s so sweet.

I can’t talk to my mother about it because she always makes it wierd. In fact, most people like to make it wierd.

Can we just normalize having friends of different genders, different ages, different life-stages, and being allowed to love them? Why does love have to be this strange word that carries such a heavy stigma?

Isn’t it love to bake your injured friend a lasagna?

Isn’t it love to give someone a cool rock you found? Or a little trinket that reminded you of them?

Isn’t it love to want to make their day better and to see them smile?

Amatonormativity is killing kindness. Let me compliment people just because they look good in that shirt or because they have a nice smile. Just because. Let me be affectionate with my friends without it being wierd. Let me call them silly names or get them dinner without it automatically being called flirting.

We're trying to decide which of these is a better option:

or

Japanese company Village/Vanguard has (for some reason) decided to turn tardigrades, the world’s weirdest animal, into a plushie. Tardigrades, also known as water bears, are capable of withstanding some of nature’s most unsurviveable conditions - including radiation, dehydration, absolute zero, and even the vacuum of outer space. 

These are the lyrics in Arabic and English, in case anyone’s interested. 

When he appeared with a sway in his walk  My darling infatuated me with his beauty Oh, my fate and my confusion Who will have mercy when I complain Of anguish in love Except for the holder of beauty?