- A Psalm For The Wild-Built, Becky Chambers // kagonekoshiro

something about hanging plants on the wall

reaching for the light,

aching,

twisting to contort to expectations—

well—

what looks best for the living room?

yet these are plants, living, breathing,

wilting,

dying—

for the privilege of “looking good”

and

what is that bullshit standard anyways?

attractiveness? style? beauty?

white supremacy in action, again—

over a plant?!

but yes—

(most times it seems to be yes)

so instead, maybe—

what feels best for the plant?

what supports growth the most?

when is your willingness to look good

outweighing your ability to feel good?

when did you start pulling yourself away

from feeling the light

when that’s all you’ve ever wanted?

they should invent something transformative and rewarding that happens inside my comfort zone

i’m proud of you for facing the days you really don’t want to face

lowkey things are shaping up to be pretty odd

me [coming to terms with a truth about myself]: hm..................................................... unfortunate

““When I was about 20 years old, I met an old pastor’s wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn’t believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day, when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking–the first in his life. She told him that he would have to go outside himself and find a switch for her to hit him with. The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, “Mama, I couldn’t find a switch, but here’s a rock that you can throw at me.” All of a sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child’s point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, then it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone. And the mother took the boy into her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. And that is something I think everyone should keep in mind. Because if violence begins in the nursery one can raise children into violence.””

— Astrid Lindgren, author of Pippi Longstocking, 1978 Peace Prize Acceptance Speech (via jillymomcraftypants)

Love complimenting strangers' outfits. They always smile so hard. It's like, haha I got you, bitch. You've fallen for my manipulations of Making Your Day. Yeah walk away from me all happy. I got your ass

maybe this time picking at Textures on my skin will lead to being silky smooth

Everyone playing the "what kind of queer is MOST oppressed?" game is wasting their time on pointless bullshit, and, quite frankly, they're doing the feds' work for them.

Stand together or die together. They want to put us all in the same pit.

how’s that house that raised you?