|—||Danielle, on Benedict Cumberbatch|
stuff i have learned from tumblr
- mercury is constantly in retrograde
- people actually believe that means something about their lives
- no one ‘can even’
I’ve gone beyond Sexball to come up with a truly comprehensive list of baby names for you, Internet.
We separated our journal into three sections: love, life, and death. We were very oblivious and passive observers of our own sexual identity. We bonded over our hatred of our mothers and The Man. We got a natural high from slapping hands with Adam in the hallway. We went through a slam poetry phase on LiveJournal. We took an entire semester of DARE and still didn’t know the difference between uppers and downers. We’d saved $793.57 for the senior spring break trip. We invented a cult called Vampism based on the tenets of worshiping Martin Gore, staying in the shade, and collecting acorns. We had a little talk, cyberly. We knew your heart beat to the rhythm of our green editor’s pen. We thought we were better than a high school relationship but we were wrong. We listed our favorite games as Super Mario and Ouija board. We had a 3 hour boyfriend named Andrew from outside Cleveland whom we met at a spring break foam party. We knew that the only good college was the one that was right for us so people needed to chill about the C+. We titled our journal “Poetry in Motion” with our mom’s labelmaker and then the MTA stole it from us. We took a stress test as an eleven year old and scored high, mostly because we hadn’t been to an amusement park lately. We felt that sexual stuff always seemed unnatural to us but maybe that would change once we got it on with someone. We made a list of the good things about us and number one was that we’d been to France. We wrote a poem called “If Not Me Then Her.” We wrote a poem called “I Want to Die a Slow Death” and ended it with three forevers. We wrote the line “You hold me so close I can feel your heart beat but yet I can’t, as if it wasn’t there, because it’s not.” We knew that the answer to lust was eating. We’d heard that math was not a spectator sport, and boy did we know that now. We wrote our mom notes in the margins of the Jehovah’s Witness chose-your-own-adventure book of teen sexual escapades she gave us. We signed everything with the Ramona Quimby cat-eared Q. We realized after a night out in Cancun that we were really going to be okay in life. We figured we’d cut someday, we supposed. We took these sixteen candles and watched them burn. We are CRINGE.
For the miniature Stevie Nicks in your life.