One time I stayed on tumblr too long and like, I actually forgot that heterosexuality existed. It was totally weird I just lived in a temporary world in my mind where every individual was some brand of queer or somehow bending gender and like I went outside and it was kind of like a long time before I even realized what was happening but then I saw this man and woman holding hands at the mall and I was like “omg, really friendly siblings, that makes sense,” and then they kissed and like my entire reality collapsed spontaneously and I remembered life before tumblr and I had like a fucking mental break down right there in the food court and I was totally inconsolable and like the Subway chick asked me if I was alright and I just cried harder because she asked me in a totally platonic way and wow it was like having the most beautiful dream and waking up to realize it’s false.

So like, be careful. tumblr has side effects.

chooseloveoverfear:

To the bitch who stole my girlfriend:
Fuck you.
Seriously though, I am writing you your own poem, not because you’ve earned it, but because karma is a little too slow for my taste. Emily, right? Can I call you Emily? I remember the first time she talked about you, said you were cool, hesitated to show me your picture though, tripped over herself to say “she’s nice… but not that cute.” Ouch. Don’t think I didn’t know then. When you spend enough time pressing someone’s heart to yours, you memorize the sound of it thumping, can hear it like your name whispered across a crowded room. I wonder if you know that her heart has always said my name. I told her I was glad she’d found a friend, encouraged her to meet you when she was afraid, offered my support like a lighthouse through my invisible storm, because she needed to learn her own lessons. 
Couldn’t help myself from looking into you though, spent enough time on your facebook and your blog to find a reason to be impressed if there was one, or maybe I just have my standards set firmly above average. Your words were “I study brains and disorders and they are more fascinating than you,” and when you learn that a brain is a mind, is a person, is a life, maybe you’ll figure out that you can’t find humility in a CAT scan. Knowing how something works but not knowing its worth is ignorance, and this world doesn’t need any more people who can tell you all the things that are wrong with you but can’t respect your humanity.
The day I met you I wanted to feel bad about myself, wanted to try to see in your face what she saw, kept trying to make it hurt but I… couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I might have been more threatened if you could say hello without stumbling, could hold a conversation, shook my hand with any semblance of a character, or maybe it’s because… well I hate to ruin the mystery, but she can tell you where my hand was that morning. She told me how badly your hands wanted to touch her, she told me when she let you kiss her. Swallowed enough liquor to make herself sick just so she could face me, then told me “eh, it was okay, not magical like our first kiss.”
I would be lying if I said I didn’t laugh when she told me you said you could love her so much better. I don’t have to know you to know you thought you had her, got cocky a little too soon and started talking shit. I am not fighter, and I laughed again to know you said you could kick my ass. Drive your incompetence into my gut as hard as you can until you find something close to respect, because I feel just fine.
You didn’t deserve this poem, and that’s why I’m writing it for me. Because I can weave a noose for your arrogance with the tip of my tongue, braid my vengeance into a double helix of dignity, and collapse every chance you ever had of hurting me like sediment, into something solid: my own self worth. So fuck you.
I wrote this before she came back, but I would have told you before that even if she had ever let you touch her, you’d just be getting your unworthy fingerprints on a glass window through which you looked at a woman who loves me. Understand that she walked back, stood confidently, came to me with her pride in tact, because I would have never made her crawl, because I would have never gone out my way to make her feel small, like you did. I feel bad for you, because I don’t think you knew what you were getting into, and I hope someday, you love someone the way I love her, and you have to let her go, because maybe then you’ll back the fuck off when you hear the word “girlfriend.”

you, right now,
reading this.
I know how much you’ve been hurting,
I know how long you’ve been waiting for it to get better.
I know.
I do.

you lay awake at night and wonder
if you will ever be worthy of happiness,
you keep asking yourself how you could be better
how you could make yourself worthy
of someone else’s love.

you just want someone to tell you you’re beautiful,
you’ve been waiting so long for someone to tell you’re beautiful.
I know. 
I do.

so stop waiting,
because you are beautiful.
I am here, I am real, and I am telling you right now:
you are so fucking beautiful.
so hear me,
and start believing it for yourself. 

(Source: everydaygay)

there are around 7 billion people in the world,
about half are women,
and about 10% are homosexual,
which leaves about 5% of the world’s population as lesbians.
add in the fact that there are 196 countries, of which the average U.S. citizen will visit three or less.
even within the country, most people live in less than 5 states out of 50 in their whole lifetime.
some of them aren’t out yet, some may never come out, some are fighting their sexuality and others will choose to ignore it forever. 

now try to remember that you don’t like every lesbian you meet.
in fact, you probably don’t like most lesbians you meet.
factor in that you like any one trait… honesty, for example, and you’ve cut the pool down by a significant fraction.
if you are even the least bit picky…
on the off chance you find a girl you like, you put a ring on it. 

I love her.
let that be enough explanation.