I always think it’s interesting to see Fic recall where my stuff is posted, because you almost always see Here and Now on them with Blue Lips, but never Blue Lips with Treason and Loves Reason. And I think none of them are really alike, so it’s interesting.

buffythefeelsslayer

ryanthemadking:

micklovich:

this is the single most pretentious thing ive ever seen in my life im gonna vomit

THATS HIS WHOLE THING
HE IS A PRETENTIOUS PIECE OF SHIT OK ITS HIS WHOLE THING AND HE WAS WRITTEN THAT WAY.
DONT COMPLAIN ABOUT IT LIKE “OMG WHY DO PEOPLE THINK THIS IS COOL”
HES DYING IF HE WANTS TO USE METAPHORS TO COPE FUCKING LET HIM

emptycolddreams

I once went three weeks without speaking and my parents took it as defiance. I watched the wall for hours and can’t recall what color it was. I don’t know how to tell them sometimes I feel so hollow, such a profound absence in my own body. How sadness has traveled up to my throat and all I can do is drown.

I walk around at night when it’s just me and street lamps and find a strange comfort in gluing my body to the pavement like tire tracks, letting the toxic spill out of me like oil into sewer drains. I go to coffee shops and listen to the conversations of strangers. I watch them and wonder if they ever have trouble breathing, if they have the rivers of their veins memorized.

I go for runs around the city the days I’m strong enough to use my muscles. I listen to my bones dismember inside of me and for a second, feel the weight exit me like smoke. I swear I could fly. Instead, my knees dig into the dirt and I start weeping because it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It hurts to pull bullets out of me that are nearly as old as I am.

My mother asks how I can stay in bed for days. I tell her I can’t feel my legs. I tell her I can’t feel anything. My bed feels more like a coffin. She stays quiet and I know some people will never understand. I cut myself open like I’m both the surgeon, and the patient on the table. I let my ghosts crawl out of me like worms and let them breathe. It burns to have them in me, I don’t know who I am when they’re not.

N.B., “It Hurts, It Feels Like Home” (via softletters)
tpringing
mapsbynik:

Nobody lives here: The nearly 5 million Census Blocks with zero population
A Block is the smallest area unit used by the U.S. Census Bureau for tabulating statistics. As of the 2010 census, the United States consists of 11,078,300 Census Blocks. Of them, 4,871,270 blocks totaling 4.61 million square kilometers were reported to have no population living inside them. Despite having a population of more than 310 million people, 47 percent of the USA remains unoccupied.
Green shading indicates unoccupied Census Blocks. A single inhabitant is enough to omit a block from shading.

mapsbynik:

Nobody lives here: The nearly 5 million Census Blocks with zero population

A Block is the smallest area unit used by the U.S. Census Bureau for tabulating statistics. As of the 2010 census, the United States consists of 11,078,300 Census Blocks. Of them, 4,871,270 blocks totaling 4.61 million square kilometers were reported to have no population living inside them. Despite having a population of more than 310 million people, 47 percent of the USA remains unoccupied.

Green shading indicates unoccupied Census Blocks. A single inhabitant is enough to omit a block from shading.

lunathepug