i…i just got linked to an anatomy video for the pelvis and the teacher starts explaining the differences between the male and female structures and he demonstrated how easy childbirth is with wide hips as compared to narrow male hips by…uh…slam dunking a baby through skeleton crotches
not sure who’s face i love more
This is how skeleton wars start
#skeleton war#its almost time#spoopy scary skeletons
ITS LITERALLY MAY THERE ARE 5 MONTHS UNTIL THE SKELETON WAR
I grew up thinking that in order to live a happy life, I had to get good grades and go to a prestigious university and get a highly paid job. But as I grew older I began to realise that in order to life a happy life, I had to choose it for myself and not live a life that others expect of me, whether it be your parents, teachers or friends. This is your life.
I made a decision that I didn’t want to be successful and live in a big house with fancy cars in the drive. So, I packed my bags and got out of this little town that had suffocated me for the last 18 years and drank coffee in small shops in Germany, chased the Horizon in Australia, woke up with a mountain view in Singapore. How beautiful is it to know that your feet have walked the grounds of many different countries and your skin has felt the air of many busy cities.
Please darling, do not get lost in society’s belief that you are only successful if you have a well paid job, like I once had. As humans, we are going to die, that is one thing we are guaranteed in life. What will you care about the most while lying on your death bed, your fancy cars, big house? Or the stories and experience you have encountered on the journey of this beautiful thing called life?
So there’s one thing I ask of you: please travel. Whether you’re 21 or 49. It is never too early nor too late so see the beautiful world.
"“Do you still miss him?” she asked as she leaned in, her voice fading to a low whisper as though we were discussing some juicy piece of gossip. There was no need to add a name. What kind of question is this, I wanted to yell as my chest thightened with anger, of course I fucking miss him, every single minute of every single day, but instead I found myself nodding. I took a sip of my beer, eyes focused on my hands wrapped around the glass in front of me, but all I tasted was ash. It was in my mouth and in my throat and in my lungs.
“Someone told me the two of you had a thing going on when he was still… you know.” Alive. Not dead. Not gone. But she didn’t say the words and she didn’t have to because there was no more air in this room anyway and I couldn’t draw a single breath. My lips stretched into a strained smile. And suddenly I felt his absence as the hole he’d left in my chest reopened and my vision blurred. But I couldn’t cry, I wouldn’t cry, not here, not in front of everyone. And that was the thing about loss, it hit you when you didn’t expect it, at school or at work, at home while you did the dishes or when you were out with your friends. There was no running and no hiding. It’d punch you square in the jaw and knock the air from your body. Memories flooded my mind and carried me away, memories of sunny days, sand between my toes, a gentle hand brushing my arm to guide me and the brightest smile. The one I’d never see again. And then my friend said the worst thing she could have possibly said. “You would have looked so good together. You would’ve been a beautiful couple.” Shards of glass were lodged in my throat, and no matter how hard I tried to breathe past them, I couldn’t. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. Maybe, almost, never, what if, what could have been? I smiled again until my lips cracked, until my friend concentrated on her drink and stopped staring at me with her big eyes, then I bolted for the bathroom. As I felt the cold tiles against my knees and hurled my guts up, I thought of how very tactless and insensitive the conversation had been on her part, and how she probably thought I was over it by now. After four and a half years I should have been over it, right? But I wasn’t. And I should have just said so, because there was no shame in it. I wiped my mouth, washed my hands and went back. And when I sat back down, I drank and I laughed and I listened and I told stories as though nothing had happened and my head wasn’t still spinning because somehow, for whatever reason, grief is still something that is too heavy for me to put into words."
- Do you still miss him? / n.j. excerpt (via ninasdrafts)
