we’ve all got that weird pretty big secret that we don’t really hide but like we don’t flaunt it like “My brother died of cancer” or “I’m gay” or “I tried to kill myself last year” or anything really and when you find out somebody’s big plot twist you know you’re in this friendship for the long run
And now we’re supposed to go back to our normal lives. That’s what people do. They have these amazing experiences with another person, and then they just go home and clean the bathroom or whatever.
If I could choose one thing in life that I like to do for myself, that would be traveling everywhere with no restrictions to how long I could stay at a particular place, what I could do, what I could buy, who I get to be and get to take me with. That would be fantastic.
Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it’s a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it’s a way of making contact with someone else’s imagination after a day that’s all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.
everybody stop what you’re doing, its a cat cleaning a baby
"Stupid furless humans can’t take care of their kitten, I have to do everything myself."
My favourite thing is baby sitting up thinking “What the fuck is that?” Then seeing the cat, thinks “Very well, continue.”
Stupid furless humans.
Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made, or by dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.
Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.