#elbowtross

Send me a 👊 if you want to fightSend me a 💯 if I’m a meme

OH MY GOD LILA

okay fine

3: Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for. 

By far it has to be my current girlfriend. Every time I talk to them or skype them I get this intense feeling in my stomach and I can’t help but be happy. We’ve had a few rough spots before, but we’ve always managed to pull through and find a way to fix whatever was wrong. Sometimes being in a long distance relationship is hard, especially if one set of parents doesn’t know and CAN’T know, but I’ll be DAMNED before I give up on them. They are one of THE MOST IMPORTANT parts of my life, and I will always love them. Eres hermosa, mi amor.

31: Talk about what you think death is like.

Death depends on how you died, if your life was incomplete, or you weren’t ready to die, or anything messes with the way things are supposed to work then death is a cold movie theatre replaying the same silent film. That silent film can be anything from a part of your life, your death, your regrets. Whatever relates most to your death plays on that dismal screen and never shuts off. Occasionally someone walks into the theatre and says hello. You know they can’t see the screen, though, because they are living. Even if they were dead they would be watching a different screen, because in death everything lies in singular vacuums, yet it doesn’t. If you pass on past this, or simply pass into the next stage, death is simply rebirth. You may keep some of your memories or you may simply float aimlessly through space and time, losing memories and thoughts until you are left a shell for a new seed to be planted in. You could a tree, a star, the light in someone’s eyes, the tears on someone’s face. When you pass you are not only you, but everything around you. You are simple and small, but also complex and larger than one can imagine. Yet you exist outside of those who never escaped the theatre, you may never even see one of those people. You may never know they exist.

32: Talk about a place you remember from your childhood.

At my old house there was woods that surrounded most of the neighbourhood, leading to a lake that was both crystal clear and murky. I would occasionally follow the creek as it bended and turned past ferns and ivy, never really carrying water that came higher than the laces of my shoes. As I ventured further I discovered more. Trees so big they acted as my throne, a small cavern filled with quartz that shown in the last evening light. Plants that lead the way through the millions of paths I had memorized. A single tire, unfitting but still a piece of this beautiful world. A lake so tired and tranquil, a bench left to rot yet intact enough for me to sit on. Trees that bent and listened to me talk of life and depression and death. Sticks so sharp I was able to carve my name into that forgotten bench. Singing birds I never saw and quiet deer I often saw. Splashing puddles and small peninsulas. This place was my home, and I spent many days there alone, contemplating and crying and laughing and singing. I could find my way through those woods from every direction, and those woods were mine. I felt free there. If I saw people coming I could simply climb into a tree and whisper to the leaves, I knew they would whisper back. Even the walk too and from was nice, since my humming seemed to attract the neighbourhood pets and strays. More than once would a stray or outdoor cat come to rub against my leg or sit in my lap. Even those with the most vile reputations never laid a claw on me. The same was for the dogs. I would spend hours in those woods, and I would have spent hours more if they didn’t decide to construct more houses where my woods laid.

Construction began on my birthday.

33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.