Wanderlust

Chances are any time I think I’m really clever, I’ve certainly fucked something up.

If I reblog my own post, will tumblr implode?

Will it set off an apocalyptic chain of events that will ultimately bring the world crashing to its knees?

An even better question is, why have I been sitting here for an hour having to pee? Why don’t I just go already? I can’t be bothered. Why are bodies so goddamn high maintenance?!

Nobody else really cares about the world inside my brain, and I’m no good at explaining it. Words, how do they work?

#talkingtomyself

Kenna!

You tumble as I type and type as I tumble.

Peekaboo, I see you.

Hard to be soft,
Tough to be tender.

Motorcades

When the motorcades come racing through the streets of DC, pushing other motorists aside and jamming up pedestrian traffic, I like to stand in the crowd trying to catch glimpses of faces shadowed by tinted glass and pretend to myself that they’re heading out on some kind of top-secret government field trip, like to the zoo or the air&space. I imagine all the puffed up, self important, government bigwigs shepherding confused Asian diplomats through spacious hallways filled with the portraits and artifacts of old, dead, white people, and the diplomats whispering to each other about how they hope they get to see that new imax film - you know, the one about the orangutans and chimpanzees, narrated by Morgan Freeman - or how they wish the food wasn’t so… American.

I watch the motorcades fly past and laugh to myself at the black suv’s stuffed tight with secret service men, bristling with automatic weapons and stiff with armor, gazing eyes of death beneath their serious killer shades, like some ludicrous clown car in a wacky Tim Burton flick.

I love DC. It’s so absurd.

kennabot:

I tried drinking crystal lite out of a cup and it splashed into my eye.
Not five minutes later Bree smacked herself in the glasses with the hookah hose.
We Benesh girls sure are graceful.

lyk dis if u cry evertim

It’s necessary to have people in your life that remind you of all those courageous things you said and believed before life tore you down. They dredge it all back up from the depths, treasures dripping and glittering between their fingers, hungry to see the light again, and look at you tenderly as if to say, “Look. Remember. All these things are still inside you. Don’t let the hurt make you forget how brave and beautiful you are.”