They got caught :0 who caught them? how? how bad was it? how do i protect them?
Sam has a stepmother and stepsiblings and they are not good
This maybe means the woman at the beginning of the movie buying a book for her stepdaughter could have been Sam’s stepmother. (Sam being a horror book nerd confirmed!)
Apparently in Sunnyvale or in Shadyside, with her dad or with her mom, Sam’s life was too difficult either way. justice for Sam Fraser
Sam saying “No, I want it,” about Deena’s mixtape… will have me crying for two weeks
Originally, Deena seemed to be a little more sad than angry, we love one angsty lesbian
Sam and Peter were not together. He wanted to, but probably she didn’t. which makes really awful the way he was touching her in public
the fact that one of the first lines we heard from melodrama was “she thinks you love the beach you’re such a damn liar” and “honey i’ll come get my things, but i can’t let go” and now the lead single for lorde’s third album is has the lyrics “lead the boys and girls onto the beaches come on come on tell you my secrets” and “forget all of the tears you cried it’s over” and “it’s a new state of mind are you coming my baby”
and then there’s the implications of juxtaposing green light vs natural solar light when she says “turn it on in a new kind of bright it’s solar” from “waiting for that green light”
I want to feel wanted. I want someone to want me as much as I want them. The past year has been so lonely I just want some of that love again..please... I want to manifest that love again
Just love without pretense. Love without calculation. Love without a winner, love without a martyr, love like - I know you were hungry, I saved you half of my sandwich. Like - I know you hate silence, give me a second to get the music on. Like - move over, let's be alone together. Love like taking off your makeup. Like fresh cleaned sheets. Like: I see you and you see me.
someone asked me how you move on. do they know i still dream about you. waited to see if you’d say anything on my birthday, was kind of hoping for an opening. my mother says you sound different when you talk about her. i hold you like a coal on the back of my tongue.
how do we move on? i take pictures of flowers, of ferns, of things i think you would like. i brush my teeth and braid my hair and sing badly and nothing echoes good inside of me. i write poems about birds and burns and bleach and they all reek with the absence of you because not-writing about you is still writing about you. in my favorite daydream i come home to you and just kiss you and hold a candle to the dry tinder and propane, call conflict seeing sparks.
how do we move on? i guess. like this. i eat too many watermelon sourpatch candies because they’re my favorite. it makes my tongue bleed. i can’t taste anything for hours afterwards. i keep chewing long past the hurting. this is how next time i don’t say yes. this is how i light you out of me like a sunburn. this is how i chase out all this sharp white want. i say - okay. just this once. and then we need to walk away.
okay just this once. okay just this once. okay. just today. and then we move on.