— Mama Zara (via robelessd)
Ugh the state speech and debate tournament is rough. I’m so fucking tired. I need a really really good hug, and a heart-to-heart, and love&attention.
I also want a letter.
and a kiss.
stöckli in balsthal | pascal flammer architekten.
— bell hooks (via hairypitsandtits)
my oral sex skills are about the only good thing i have going for me in life
In Boston, I fall in love with the startling roar of the subway. There’s something strange here. Everything is blanketed in white, but for some reason being in Boston is like viewing things in colors for the first time. Everything is crisp: the vivid hues of light as we speed toward the next platform, the bursts of uproarious laughter, the frigid air.
In Boston, I evade “let’s fuck” text messages, and the seven of us fall asleep in the midst of an over caffeinated all-nighter. I lose both fuzzy socks in the unkempt hotel room and wear striped leg warmers to the subway. A stranger puts his arms around me for the entire ride, but I am unaware of the presence of my admirer until he disappears from eyesight, making way for my giggling peers to come charging toward me with photographic proof. The whole ride savors of Supersymmetry by Arcade Fire. I refuse to shut up about Foster the People.
In Boston, we say “fuck” too much, and I’m on a roll with the sex jokes. There are Nerds spilled on the floor of the hotel room. The week is filled with subzero temperatures, but I wear ripped pantyhose and dirty combat boots. My eyeliner game is strong. I visit Starbucks three times in one day and make small talk with a coveted stranger I met eons ago. He still remembers me. I buy an ungodly Nutella milkshake at Bolocos and lose my Aztec sweater at the Harvard CoOp when I’m caught up pretending to be his girlfriend.
In Boston, we stay in the printing room past midnight telling stories (UPenn), screaming until our throats are hoarse. The guests think we’re insane. I think so too, but it’s the best kind of insanity. We are enamored with savory hotel cookies, filled with gooey milk chocolate and macadamia nuts and warmth. I see him on the subway three times and then at the restaurant and almost consider kissing him because what the hell. I brush my teeth for ten extra minutes in the morning because I’m too busy singing Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. We tease each other about our rampant dandruff problems and throw powdery snowballs. The food is amazing. I become sisters with two girls I’ve never met before.
In Boston, every day is inundated with those moments when life yells: “this, this is what it feels like to be alive.” My insides swell with an indomitable effervescence, and I laugh so much my insides ache. I get three phone calls from my home town and remember the shadow of a girl I left with the electronic toothbrush and striped sweater I left in my bedroom.
In Boston, everything is ephemeral. It is time to go home."
— (via mislikings)
AIDS is not over.. Neither are we - ACT the fuck UP!