my dashboard is 90% depressive posts but it should be 100% baby squid posts let get this squid party moving along
everyone needs more baby squids on their dash!
here’s more baby squids!! and some baby octopuses because they’re cute too!
I'm Corinne, college student in Portland.
Overworked, underslept, overcaffeinated, undersexed.
This is insightful musing and incoherent rambling.
- lypophrenia: a feeling of sadness seemingly without a cause
- drapetomania: an overwhelming urge to run away
- escapism: a mental desire to retreat from unpleasant realities through fantasy
- wanderlust: a desire to travel, to understand one’s very existence
- dysania: the state of finding it difficult to get out of bed in the morning
- sanctuary: a small safe place in a troubling world
- metathesiophobia: fear of change
We can stick anything into the fog
and make it look like a ghost
let us not become tragedies.
We are not funeral homes
with propane tanks in our windows,
lookin’ like cemeteries.
Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.
let’s turn our silly wrists so far backwards
the razor blades in our pencil tips
can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.
Step into this
with your airplane parts.
and repeat after me with your heart:
“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.”
Make love to me
like you know I am better
than the worst thing I ever did.
I’m new to this.
But I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop
I have realized
that the moon
did not have to be full for us to love it,
that we are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it,
that if my heart
every time I fell from love
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now.
But hearts don’t break,
they bruise and get better.
We were never tragedies.
We were emergencies.
You call 9 – 1 – 1.
Tell them I’m having a fantastic time.
Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording —all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.
It’s hard to imagine that nothing at all could be so exciting, could be this much fun.