on the train i sit and shut my eyes
i am in the middle of some stupid world where my brain is is
instead a huge, wet heart

and where my organs are are instead hearts
and my bones are all hearts too
and no heart anywhere in the world is beating but just wet and
humming and enormous
and i walk home

it is three p.m. and bright outside
and i know that my day is over

i lie on my bed and i wait for your phone call
the only person in the world that i like
my favorite person
not god but just a person

and i know you can’t save me, you didn’t create the universe in seven days
you’re just another person who isn’t in love with me
and maybe you can do something, still, i guess, and i want to murder you
and myself

and i get up and shut my door and shut the blinds and turn off every light
turn off the fan, everything

pull the covers over my face, pretend it’s night
and try to view my life as ironic and humorous
try to view it in a wry and detached way

but i can’t, and instead i try my hardest to cry
but that doesn’t happen either, so i just lie very still
and listen for your phone call, because now i’m thinking that maybe

you canceled on me by accident
maybe you are accidentally really in love with me
maybe the devil intervened and said you’d die
if you didn’t cancel, we’d both die if you didn’t cancel
or something

and i am lying very still and thinking all this and time keeps going
and i know that i must fall asleep for twenty hours
can’t wake up at nine p.m. rested and hungry and thinking of you
must sleep straight into tomorrow

and this is what i’m thinking
i’m thinking, please, just let me go to sleep
thinking, please, and i am listening
very closely for your phone call
and i am going a little insane
and after a long time, finally, i am insane, i am crying a little
the tiniest of cries, something minuscule and not even real
just some water behind my eyes, some salt
in the brain
not crying actually, but something else
something strange and new
a small piece of my heart, letting go
into the blood
about a hundred thousand pieces of my heart, into the blood
the whole thing, going places

– tao lin, ‘spring break’ (via buzzyrgfwoof)

(via yoamymac-deactivated20140514)

Billie Joe Armstrong from Greenday was my love interest in my dream last night.

It’s getting desperate, people.



“The only way someone can leave you is if you let them”

Jodi Picoult (Vanishing Acts)

This is what I’m talking about. Now, let me preface this by saying I’ve never read a Jodi Picoult book, nor do I intend on it, nor have I ever read the Twilight series. But seriously? What kind of sentiment is this to be teaching youngsters, primarily young girls? In one of the Twilight “novels,” Edward leaves Bella, and a chapter starts out with something like, “Edward is gone.” Since the “novel” is written in the style of a journal, we get dated pages that are completely blank because, obviously, if Edward is not in Bella’s life, there’s nothing to live for and nothing to report. How terrible is that? As if we need to be encouraging teen girls to be MORE dependent on the men in their lives, even if the men are vampires and endanger them constantly and can’t have sex with them ANYWAY so what’s the use really?!

Same with the above quote. If your boyfriend tries to leave you, just let him know he can’t! You won’t let him! WHAT. It takes two people to be in a relationship, so if one of you is leaving, there’s nothing you can really do about it. If it’s that important to you, by all means, try your hardest to keep him or her around—but in the end, if your significant other wants to leave you, your significant other is going to leave you. I’m sure the quote is taken out of context—but how do you really contextualize something like that? Why not make the sentiment more like, “If someone’s leaving you, he or she is a fucking idiot and you deserve better anyway, so mourn for a while and then get over it and find someone better?” Or something like, “The only way someone can leave you is if you’ve done something to hurt them, and maybe you should’ve thought about that before you did it?” These are much more realistic and HEALTHIER sentiments.

Day Twenty-Four


My father certainly remembers this, and I’m assuming that the teacher does as well. In first grade, I had a male teacher who used to do things like sit us all on the rug and play his clarinet for us. From what I can remember, he was a nice man. However, I was always a gifted child, especially in my youngest days, and with that came a certain candor and precociousness. This teacher ended up having to call my father in for a parent-teacher conference because I’d been finishing my work early and causing a ruckus in class talking to the other students and talking when the teacher was talking. My father asked me, in said conference, why I talked over my teacher, and I responded, without hesitation or shame, “Because he’s boring.”