Remembering life is like looking at a puzzle. Each piece- each scene, event, person, feeling- is whole, but separate from every other piece. I can't understand how they all fit together. Which pieces form the corners, the sky or the logo on the very bottom right. Each instant is purely self-contained. My life is lived, puzzle piece to puzzle piece, not knowing where each goes in the grand scheme of the larger puzzle.
This is mostly a scrapbook of reblogs. All pieces of other peoples puzzles. You can find some of my writing here:
sinking sands
mine
we felt alive
the letter F
confession
[photo: red spray paint on an oft-white wall reads, “american does not mean christian.”]
Nor does it mean white, cis-man, heterosexual
Erasure is just helping the oppressors
Can I get this put on a shirt for tomorrow when I see my uncle who told me the US was a Christian nation and founded by Christian ministers?
THANK YOU
For relevance.
(Source: slaveofthemind, via tranqualizer)
or something and show it off to...family? And then get disowned.
SERIOUSLY. i am so sick of all the ignorance in this country.
NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY