she tosses me a brush. he likes you, she says softly. he doesn't normally like strangers. I smile. you don't have to offer much to this type of girl. they're used to talking to something that doesn't talk back. she pulls lightly on her ponytail, running her hand along a leather strap. it's working
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32 likes
imagining two horse girls getting really upset while arguing about kony 2012. neither knows anything about the world. the bedspread is pink and gray. too plush to be comfortable. the first girl watches the second girl's lips as she tries to find a word that means both love and fear at the same time
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44 likes
the patron saint of ex- horse girls with primarily autistic friend groups
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I am like a horse girl except the horse is this album
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I'm literally like if the 2019 album solipsisters by katie dey was a girl
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a useful thing to understand about laws is that they are made up. specifically, they are made up, in the moment, by the person pointing the gun at you. the books just exist to give them ideas
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57 likes
there is a limit to the volume of sound that your ears can perceive before they are destroyed
no such limit exists for sounds that bypass ears entirely
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30 likes
tapping the sign
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20 likes
now might be a good time to ask the liberal in your life who they think the cops will side with. now might be a good time to ask the liberal in your life how many teeth they are willing to lose in exchange for the safety of their neighbors
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27 likes
💚💜🍄
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the was an empty space behind the building. where runoff from the roof had cut a stream into the mud. where the weeds grew bigger than they were allowed to grow anywhere else. I would play there while my mother worked. I caught a salamander there once. some frogs. I didn't know what to do with them
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she always said you had a hard time letting people in. and maybe that was true. but ghosts don't need a door. and you are happy enough in their company
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you run your hand along my sharp edges, but you do not touch me. there is something between us. oxide. a layer of compromised self that holds us apart. it's all you see when you look at me. scratch me. corrode me. let my edges bite into your skin. I dare you. I beg you. I was built to be destroyed
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[sees a post about something positive] it's like you people just hate being sad
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every beach is a graveyard
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staring into a trendy light fixture in a nearly empty brewpub, waiting for the check: a sphere of loosely interlocking metal rings. they probably came from old whiskey barrels. it's probably a cute joke. she is looking at her phone. she chuckles quietly. it is the first time you've heard her laugh
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cain and abel are sisters now. they share a basement apartment in portland. cain collects minerals. abel pretends to listen when cain explains what makes each mineral special. abel studies marketing. cain is starting to talk about grad school. they are both unhappy. neither one remembers
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131 likes
kiki and bouba live in a small house in rockland, maine. kiki has taken up biking. bouba worries about her every time she goes for a ride. bouba paints highly detailed insects onto river rocks to sell on etsy. kiki has been feeling something. a fear deep in her gut. winter will be difficult for them
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she dreams of a cave under the ocean. creatures slithering in and out of their hidden places. and teeth. their voices come to her as one, singing in a key that she does not understand. an apology. she wakes up to the sound of her daughter crying in the next room
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people ask about it, sometimes. we're only a few miles from where it happened. I don't know any more about it than anyone else, though. I know about comics. I know about the sound of raindrops on glass bottles. I know that you say we have everything we need here. I try not to think about the blood
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you said you could never keep something so beautiful in your head long enough to paint it, so you kept them hanging on the wall near where you worked. pinned. behind glass. they look so free, in the paintings