With The Idea Of Being A Black Man And Becoming Captain America, It’s Been A Daunting Task Because

“What’s your spirit animal?” We’re white Rebecca we don’t have spirit animals ask me what my fursona is like you meant to ask u fucking coward

Fuck.....

M E S S Y

“Just a by the by: “private” messages sent to individual people during a Zoom meeting show up in the end-of-meeting transcript along with all other public messages. Tell your friends, save a life.“

I don’t think a lot of people really understand that ecosystems in North America were purposefully maintained and altered by Native people.

Like, we used to purposefully set fires in order to clear underbrush in forests, and to inhibit the growth of trees on the prairies. This land hasn’t existed in some primeval state for thousands of years. What Europeans saw when they came here was the result of -work-

places to go:

a fairylike garden, full of sunshine

a flower meadow where picnics occur

foggy forests, a neverending fairytale

hidden waterfalls in the mountains

tide pools by the sea 

I’M BISEXUAL

WHICH MEANS I LOVE MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER , HOZIER, THE CONCEPT OF DECAY, AND EVERY WOMAN I’VE EVER MET

I had to move back in with my toxic parents because of this. They claimed me as a dependent because they wanted the money. My campus job closed so that is another $200 a week I don’t get. So being home I am not utilizing the campus housing I payed for or the meal plan. It is all falling apart and I can’t fix it. 

Students are repeatedly tossed away by corporate politicians like their lives don’t matter

No one:

Me: "that's nice, but can I have the gay version?"

lokean affirmations™

idaho gothic:

it’s raining. it’s sunny. it’s 50 degrees. no one wants to go outside. everyone goes outside. everyone comes inside and they are very cold.

pictures of giant wolves begin to appear on facebook. people scoff, but they hunt less and less. there are large paw prints in the foothills. there are howls in the suburbs. 

in the summer people lie around in the shade and make halfhearted jokes about how you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. you force a laugh as you quietly hide the blisters on your feet under your sunburnt fingers. so does everyone else. you can hear a faint sound of sizzling when you get too close to black pavement.

missionaries knock on your door. you answer. you see the badges. you give them a smile and tell them they don’t want you. they smile. they keep smiling. they both look the same. they smile as they buckle their helmets. that night they come back. they knock. they smile. the next night they come back. they knock. they smile. they smile.

one time you drove for forty five minutes to find something new to look at. the fog got thicker with every mile. when you finally parked on the side of a dirt road, you can hear a deep moaning from the other side of a small hill. you don’t walk over the hill. you go home. you say out loud, “strong winds this time of year.” you don’t believe it.

it’s called the gem state. maybe that’s why you keep finding mica in your hair when you wake up in the morning. maybe that’s why your bed feels like nothing but jagged points when you try to sleep.

the buildings here are old. the people are old. the sun feels old sometimes. the governor is old. he does not change. he will never change. the people will never change.