Unconditional Love Isn't A Free Pass To Hurt Me.

this was a great read. “Laziness Does Not Exist” by Devon Price

“i feel like i have no purpose” You are not a fixed entity. You do not have one grand, singular, constant purpose. As long as you have genuine intent behind your actions, everything you do serves a purpose. As long as you are truly present, you notice that everything contributes to a greater whole. You do not need to dedicate yourself endlessly to one practice to achieve a purpose; allow yourself to oscillate freely between them all. Experiment. You are not one dimensional: treat yourself as such.

I feel like tumblr would really like As It Should Be by Derek Mahon

Why?

Uhhh no reason

did you guys see the poem from a couple of days ago in poetry dot org’s daily poem it was so good and a treat to read 

When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.

Ough you go to therapy you take your meds you learn to drive you make friends you graduate college you get a dog you rent a cute apartment you learn to love properly and then one person says something and it makes you feel like a kid again, alone on the swing

a perfect poem from Leonard Cohen

I vote that your writing continues to be:

self indulgent

cringe

weird

bizarre

long

short

sappy

only for your eyes

obnoxious

You're allowed to have your own voice. You're allowed to write something only you want to read. Seize the freedom you were never given in your 8th grade English class!