fluorescent orange tulips around the birches

nothing makes me go "ooooh we are NOT the same" quite like reading some post about how people talk with their parents about their interests. what do you mean you told your father about stevebucky. what do you mean he asked further questions

"i sent this article to my relative" "mom & i were discussing dialectical materialism" you navigate the world with such a different set of parameters than i

Has anyone turned this into a ringtone yet so I can set it as my alarm

just met a three month old pomeranian named horchata. her paw was the size of my fingertip. she looked like half a dandelion fluff

this just got a hockey rpf tag. due to the nature of this website

other hockey rpf enjoyers now expressing skepticism and disbelief at the choice of man referenced above and tagging it with their preferred and more horchataesque men. i love it here and i'll leave when i die

death shatters reality like a fist through a pane of glass. if someone tells me a story about death and portrays whatever is broken as simple or comprehensible or repairable, and there's no unpleasant shards of glass sticking out in weird places to be stepped on randomly by someone months or years later. what are you even doing. what do you think death is. death is unreality! it should feel unreal! grief is grappling with the unreality and the linear nature of time. no backsies. nothing can be undone.

when a cloth mutual sees your wire post

i think a lot of people internalized the misogynistic idea that “men are rational and women are emotional” and just went “that’s true… but it’s a good thing!” instead of saying “that’s obviously bullshit and we shouldn’t perpetuate this belief in any form”