Haha.. don't mind me... Creeping back in... Labeling this blog low/sporadic activity...
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anyone: interacts with race in a gentle way
me: so you have chosen death?
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They did not expect you to fight. They expected you to cower down, bow before them, accept the fate that they had thought out for you. All the more satisfying, then, to smirk up at them through the blood, saying i'm not done yet. You have no idea of the extent of my defiance.
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Don’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm.
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back kiss. (Davey)
The kiss brought him out of a light sleep and back into the world again, turning his head away from the light of the window before blinking open his eyes. He’d been sleeping on his stomach, his arms wrapped around the pillow he was resting his head on, no shirt in sight. He could do that now. This was his room, his space to come and go as he pleased, to leave open or lock the doors whenever he wanted.
He’d really lucked out.
It was strange to have to adjust to having freedom like that. There were certainly worse things in the world, so there would be no further complaints coming from Anthony. Not even when his parents dragged him along on outings, singing pop music embarrassingly loudly with the windows rolled down.
Less than a year ago, he didn’t have a space that wasn’t shared. He didn’t have the freedom to take a car and leave whenever he wanted. The only time he took off his shirt was to shower or change, maybe to swim if he got lucky, and even then he was uncertain---the scars on his shoulders and upper back raised questions, and sometimes he didn’t feel like answering. He certainly didn’t dare speak of his identity of any kind. He kept his mouth shut about Albert’s freckles and Jack’s blue eyes. He could relax a little at school, or rehearsals, but otherwise he was on edge, everything bottled up and locked away in the farthest corner of his mind he could possibly reach.
Now he was napping on a summer afternoon with his shirt off and his boyfriend, who his parents must have let in, was waking him up with a kiss that was most certainly right on top of one of those scars. He didn’t care. He rolled over and dragged Davey onto the bed with him, set on replacing the pillow in his arms with something---someone---else instead, even as the other boy laughed and feebly protested.
He was pretty happy now.
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anne carson, ‘plainwater’
[ID: “What are we made of but hunger and rage?” end ID]
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should i get my life together or should i just keep being sexy and chaotic
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The truth was I was tired way underneath my skin. I was tired where even I couldn't see. I do not know how that happened. How I ended up like that. It all happened so fast.
— Rebecca Wells, The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
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