I can’t trust, “I miss you,” because I can only ever hear it in the voice of my ex-girlfriend, and it’s wheedling and saccharine and sharply manipulative. This is not an undertone of it for me, it’s the meaning of the words. It’s “come back, come here, serve me, be mine.” It’s sweetly entangling and cold underneath. This isn’t anything tragic, this ex-girlfriend was always more a subject of abstract bemusement for me, it wasn’t much of a relationship in the first place. Or much of a friendship, and it was after we were broken up and friends again that she used to say she missed me. So I can’t say that, you see. I couldn’t say that to you in all those months because I couldn’t sound like her, I couldn’t let you think my smile was calculated. My integrity is going to kill me, love.
I can’t trust, “I care about you,” it only comes out like my ex-best friend, and it’s condescending and excusatory and sedative. “I care about you,” a pat justification, a twisted interpretation of control as love. “I’m right, I know best, shut up.” The boy who called me stupid and a bitch cared about me. It sounds slimy now, greasy and dark and like its smile is twisted. So I couldn’t say that, not ever, because I could never be like him in the least little way, and I didn’t want to justify anything in those placating words. I had to show you. Even if that meant not doing anything for months and months. (I told you it’d kill me, didn’t I? I’m a martyr. Forgive me, love, they raised me Catholic.)
I can’t trust, “I love you,” because I can only ever hear it in Sandra Bullock’s voice, and that’s just the fault of romcoms. They glorified romance until the beauty of platonic love was emaciated, and eventually the two couldn’t be more different, with nothing in between. I could never tell you I love you anymore because I kissed you one night and apparently that changes everything now. And now it can’t be both, I guess, which is a shame, because that’s what this is. I can’t say I love you and mean it platonically because you’re something to me romantically, and guess which society cares about much, much more? Besides, I could never tell you what you meant to me. Because what if you actually understood?
So see, I could never have just told you all these months, I could never have just set things right like a normal person, because life destroyed my lexicon, and besides, I’m afraid of feeling. And I guess
this is to tell you
why I haven’t written
any love letters.
1. Every hour you spend doing Thing right now is an extra hour you will get to sleep. (◡‿◡✿)
2. Every hour you spend doing Thing right now is an extra hour you will get to read or talk with friends or watch that new episode of your favourite TV show or do something else you…
I’M NOT EVEN ENTIRELY SURE WHAT THIS SMALL CRUSTACEAN IS
BUT IT’S FUCKING ADORABLE
An abandoned Atlanta school’s bathroom is slowly reclaimed by ivy and kudzu.
The Glowing Spider-Worms of New Zealand
For over one hundred years, millions of tourists have flocked to the ancient limestone Waitomo Caves on New Zealand’s North Island, where a stunning species of fungus gnat called Arachnocampa luminosa live.
Unique to New Zealand and Australia, they are found in caves, grottoes, and other sheltered places. Arachnocampa means ‘spider-worm,’ as the gnat is known for the way their larvae hang strong vertical silk threads from their underground habitats. Since the larvae are luminescent, the thousands of tiny threads light up cave ceilings like a starry sky.