FriendProject.net

Just figured out i can’t subscribe to my own blog, i am inevitable. 

textt mee

Its 9:00 and I have an essay due on Sunday. Have I started it? Yes. Will I finish it? Porbably not. And thats ok.

I haven't felt this good in a long time😊.

people really suck today :/anyway hope whoever sees this has a good day ♥

1 d0nt kn0w wh@t t0 d0 h3r3 l0lz xD

So..... Any BL Suggestions

Literally telling my business but whatever. I am a half black and half asian person, right. I live with my BLACK grandmother and you have no idea how racist old people can be. She makes fun of asian lanuages like mandarin, japanese and even tagalog which is what my mother speaks. I feel like my feelings are being disreguarded because she purposely tries to forgot im half. She's pro black, im pro black but that in no way means to bring other races down. It really offends me but everytime i try to communicate that it offends me she talks about it as if i dont of a say because im only half. I love my black family and i love my asian family, they are my blood. Feeling conflicted asf.

why is finding a good page background so hardddddd bruhueriobugoufuiohburi3ohuiohbh3uorey

im backkkk ♥

japan or puerto rico for my birthday ?

Ok so i just registered here and its all seems sooooo hard and i dont understand how to use it

one day i’ll grow older than you ever were one day i’ll get married and you won’t be there one day i’ll move into my first house and you won’t have a room in it one day i’ll forget your name  and won’t notice it’s gone one day i’ll see you in pictures  and remember  but only briefly  what it was like before before, it sounds like a far away land that i can only go to when i’m dreaming   before,  the symphonic premonition of after that i am continuously reaching towards before, that place i wish i was able to go to as each day stretches me further  before,  where i am damned not to go.  i hope that i am able to exist in a world where the now is brighter than the before ever was. 

i am everything  yet still at the same time empty  i am mother to every one of my children in this world  yet i do not claim them i do not show my stretch marks, my proof of their egress these lines in my skin do not run  i remain perfect unstained without flaw  and blinding.    i am messy; and bright  and loud i do not hold my breath, but rather let myself breathe and heave and gasp and cough and be alive with no consequences of the word  i am sharp and saturated i am screaming at your eyes,  burning your corneas but further you look at the wrecked scene,  knowing you will go blind if you look at the sun,  yet still, you gaze, stare, and gape at my pointed flamed edges hidden away in the corner of your page i am crashing i am a bang  and i am deafening.    i am nothing  yet still, i am everything i am the puddle of mixed watercolors in 3rd-grade elementary class the product of an unlucky student trying to make purple  or orange or green hidden beneath crumpled papers redos  and try agains i am eyes shut  i am the inside of a closed fist sweaty and shaking  i am  i am i am  

a woman’s place is at home.   a woman’s place is in the kitchen  a woman’s place is at the heels of whatever man that claims her.    is that why my mother taught me   to keep my head down   voice quiet   “show some respect,”  when my father chose to address me   as if speaking with happiness  or excitement   or emotion at all was an offense  an insult to an insulted man   wronged at birth.     my father’s mother taught him   to live boisterously   without care  or worry  or fear.   he learned he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder walking home   and doesn’t understand why i hold my keys between my fingers.     my father’s mother tells me                                             that a woman does not speak out of tone  my grandmother thinks success is found in my womb   begging me to find a man while i break her heart in saying i prefer women.    she tells me i am a disappointment   as i pay for her meals.     i hope her letdown tastes good   while she chews her food   and calls me a “chameleon”;   able to change with the night sky.     her son is at bars   breathing heavily on women   claiming their personal space as his own     while I am across from her   making sure   she is fed.