Generation Z was born with the tragedy of 9/11 shadowing our birth certificates. A warning signal of what’s to come in the rest of our lives.
Because we grew up going to class with four— yes, four— of our classmates raising their hands and having scars on their arms being exposed. No one says anything because it’s too common for the guidance counselor to deal with, so everyone adverts their eyes instead.
We have, time and time again, gone to class only to hide under our desks for four hours not being sure whether the alarm blaring in or ears is a drill or not. Texting your parents worried because nobody knows what’s going on, and all you can do is hope that this is one of the dozens of drills you have each month and not one of the hundreds of school shootings every year.
We’re afraid to go to concerts and movie theaters and malls, and the general fucking outside world with our friends or family because of the terrorism displayed on the news. We’re scared of ending up dead every time we leave our house because the chances of it happening are more likely than it not.
We grew up in a mental health crisis and a new age of terrorism and violence. We don’t have memories of being happy, because as soon as we became self aware we knew what was going on around us.
And every time we say something to make things better for the next generation after us; every time we cry or slit our wrists just like we know to do oh so well; every time we try to do anything in the our lives we’re told that we’re too young to understand. That we have nothing to fear.
And when we’re dead, what do we have to fear then?
When we’re dead, will we finally be heard?
Is it to much to ask to be a captain of a ship during pirate times?
Me, my wife and crew could sail the sea, enjoying ourselves and In good ol pirate fashion blow some shit up and rob something.
The crew wouldn't care that we are two girls because we would have earned their respect. (And they don't want to be thrown overboard)
Like that's all I want
living in a two-storey house, spending a lot of time outside, reading sitting on the grass, playing with my cat, and cooking near the big open window
my brain can't produce serotonin because it's using all of its power capacity to produce gay thoughts.
I genuinely like my dark circles? Makes me feel like a true academic, we love the whole slightly disheveled and unhinged academic vibe in this house 👏🏻
Fall in love with someone who knows you and treats you like your best friend does. Someone who translates their speak to yours so you know what they’re talking about when you’re out of your depth, Someone who suggests going to that store to get that specific tea you like when you go out together, Someone who compliments you for the little things and lets you go a little overboard
i want to have a porch with a swing and candles and lanterns. there will be hanging plants and there will be lightning bugs. it’ll be late august before i work at a high school in a small town somewhere in the north east. i’ll be happy and listening to the sound of bugs. idk if anyone will be there with me but that’s okay.
date idea: you talk to me about your favorite things and i listen intently because hearing you get excited is just so cute
I just want someone to tell me I haven’t wasted my life and mean it
if your s/o wears all black, gets excited over shiny things, screams loudly at sunset
that isn’t your s/o
that is a crow
this still hits hard
Okay listen if you are a baby queer and you don't feel loved, supported, or validated: you are the very precious grandchildren of the Stonewall rioters, the bright children of hope after the AIDS epidemic. You are the little siblings of ex-gay therapy survivors. You were fought for, and wanted, and loved. Everyone who came before you is so very happy that you are here.