Disaster Lesbian

happy pride month to hater lesbians!! i love u never stop hating <3

i hate when apps know that i’m screenshotting something. when i screenshot something, that’s me acting outside your realm of understanding, app. i am beyond what you consider the observable universe. you’re not supposed to perceive me. we don’t know when god screenshots the earth. we don’t know when he’s like, “okay i’m just gonna take a pic in case i ever want to add dinosaurs back to something later and don’t remember how.” and if we did, we wouldn’t act all smug about it like, “hey, you wanna share that post? you could just click here to share it.” no, man. you didn’t catch me. i screenshotted this for my own reasons. what’s next? i can’t take a photo of my computer screen with my phone out of laziness without being shamed by the printer i don’t own?

The love they shared for humanity and for each other was so evident to me. You don't need a kiss to show love. The way they looked into each other's eyes. The way they grabbed each other's hands in the end. And then to see them as humans without the trauma, grief, and weight from the pressures of a divine plan and angels vs demons was so beautiful. It may not have been perfect, it certainly felt rushed, but it was poignant and beautiful seeing them together at last without the shit that the universe with a God caused. Az finally stopped taking and gave to Crowley instead. They both ultimately achieved what they wanted. And it was bittersweet, but it was also so moving.

i wish there was a way to say "you're right, but this is really ineffective and even counterproductive messaging to anyone who doesn't already agree with you" without sounding like an asshole

Once you start noticing how the incapacity to handle discomfort affects how people live their lives it's actually pretty shocking how it ruins pretty much every conceivable aspect of existence. Interpersonal relationships, romantic and platonic. Career and education opportunities. Your politics Your willingness to go anywhere. The kind of food you eat. The kind of art you expose yourself to and your ability to read it. It's never just one thing, it touches everything, and once you notice it it's like suddenly being able to see germs or something. Just this horrific catastrophe people look at you askance for screaming about. As I grow older and see what became of my friends and peers who could not learn to handle discomfort, the more I'm like. This is a genuine societal issue