Outfit Appreciation ➝ Taylor Swift (part 1)

Sometimes I get enraged with my past self. I hate that I let so much happen! "you should've known" "you should've said something" "you should've done things differently" but then I realize that post betrayal me is talking. Post hurt me is thinking. My past self was simply doing what she could and what she knew, she wasn't trained for when people took advantage of her good heart and good intentions, she didn't have a class on betrayal to which she could study for and attain gold stars from. She just drank her coffee, read her books, lived her life and gave every little ounce of love and every fibre of her being to those she loved bc when she loves, she loves hard.

And suddenly I'm grateful that she carried me all the way here and suddenly I'm thankful for her and how strong she was. And suddenly I want to hug her

ttpd song predictions: but daddy i love him

everybody is telling me to walk away and i keep ignoring all the signs because i've put my blood, sweat, and tears into this relationship and i refuse to let this one be another lesson - but what if it has to be? what if it is?

Ahhh I love release weeks, the chaos, the clowning… something new and wild happpens every few hours, new lyrics make us lose our goddamn minds, fans arguing FOR a double album, fans arguing AGAINST a double album, tiktok swifties for some reason thinking rep tv is coming, spiraling about wether or not Taylor’s cat is dead (this is a new one), unfollowing and blocking left and right bc of leaks (are they real? Are they fake? Who knows, too late once you see them), everyone live blogging their mental breakdowns, someone logging in who’s been away all day and is confused, seeing takes from the mutual in law you don’t like, the “I KNEW IT FROM THE BEGINNING” types, people complaining that their job expects them to do work, seeing a “I’m so glad I took off of work on friday” post, the “actually I still haven’t recovered from folklore/evermore/etc” crowd, there’s really nothing else like it, honored to spend every release week on here with you guys I wouldn’t want to spend it any other way

If you repeatedly have to address the same exact thing about how you feel and nothing changes, understand they don’t respect you…

History of Man by Maisie Peters

I have an end-of-life patient to whom I spoke today. She burst out laughing and said, "It was all such fun. I just had so much fun." I wish this for everyone. I wish that we each would meet death laughing, with little regret and even less fear.

realizing that sticking to the "do it bad" "do it scared" mentality implies theres also a "do it bored"

you only saw what you wanted to.

there were flowers blooming between my teeth, promises wrapped around my hips, handstands in the gangly corners of me.

there were blades in my hands.

i was carving my name into your side and you were calling me soft, calling me gentle.

i do not think you were paying attention.

I think the human condition is just finding magic in the compositions of people's mundanity. Knowing they love strawberry perfumes and aloe moisturizers, knowing their favourite ice-cream flavours and the song they can sing in their sleep, gosh knowing their sleep schedules and sharing dreams during breakfast. Knowing the motifs of their grief and the childhood stories behind the swings, the joy of knowing how they completed their day with 15 math problems, one incomplete art assignment, a sandwich for breakfast, a kind smile of a stranger who passed them, and not to mention dropping their phone 5 times. The inherent comfort in knowing the stories inside their kitchen, where the glasses are kept with their favorite mug adorning a Studio Ghilbi character and why they eat noodles in a dented red bowl. Their heat/cold tolerance, their spice tolerance, coffee orders and their favourite snack aisle at the grocery store. The art accounts they follow and their comfort youtube videos and their unhinged coping mechanisms. Oh the mortifying ordeal to be known but oh the gratifying relief in being known. Comfort lies in these compositions of mundanity. I think love hides in mundanity and I think magic is just being human, just being unfiltered like toothpaste stains pajamas, just being in the presence of each other

“It wasn't about anything so shallow

as physical desire.

They wanted each other in the way of flesh wanting to knit itself together over a wound.”

— Micah Nemerever, "These Violent Delights"

“You don’t deserve someone who comes back, you deserve someone who never leaves.”

— Unknown

I like calm men. Men who don’t shout or break things when they’re mad. Men who tell you exactly how they feel. Men who communicate. Men who talk you in a gentle, low voice telling you what made them mad or what you did wrong, but never blame you and make you feel bad about it.

at the end of the day it's not that you hate your job - actually, you like working, you like routine, you like feeling like an adult - it's that any time you fuck anything up, you feel like you're fucking dying.

because you could be actually fucking dying. because if one day you wake up and you misunderstood something - you could lose your job, and nobody is hiring, and nobody is paying, and nobody takes people like you, and that job you want hasn't gotten back to you. and what exactly are you going to do without insurance? good luck with those meds. you should have thought of that before being a person.

so it's not just that you forgot to CC someone on an email, it's that if you don't have this job, you can't afford rent. it's not that you misread a comment, it's that if you get fired, you will be in massive amounts of unpayable debt. it's not that you are bad at your job, but here are the stakes as they have been decided for you: be perfect or fucking die. like, literally, die. that is how much safety net you have: none.

it's not burnout, technically. but you literally just had two typos in your work, and you're already picturing the ending. you want to throw up & curl up & make it all go away. it is two typos. if he decides he is mad at you, you lose literally everything.

your mom says that you seem stressed. the thing is that you have never known a job that isn't stressful. welcome to capitalism. there is no other road, only this one. what the fuck is a career. you come here, and we hold your life against the barrel of a gun, and somewhere someone is spinning the chamber and pulling. eventually the bullet will come.

you live in a mugging. your boss owns three cars and has four kids. you worry about having enough to feed your dog. good luck. beg for forgiveness. CC the right people next time and be grateful, kid. somebody has it worse than you. someone, probably, has it worse than you. so what if you can't sleep or eat or focus. your work chat sound literally makes you panic. you had to change the sounds of computer notifications so you'd stop having such an upset stomach.

welcome to the real world! the rat race! the dog eat dog circus!

your doctor studies the results and frowns at you. "it's bad for your heart," she says. "try to reduce your levels of stress."