This. This is what it looks like when you care about the people around you. This is one of the things pro choice is, caring about hungry babies. This is what peacefully protesting with a purpose looks like. Not rallying up to go picket the local Planned Parenthood, which does more in 5 minutes to prevent abortions than a Duggar will do in their entire lifetime. End rant.
Imagine a box with velvet lining and a fine jewel perfectly snug inside it. Then imagine a bigger box around that with approximately 368 locks and a very cross house cat sitting on top.
That perfectly shaped rock you find that's partially turned crystalline on one side and that remains cool in the palm of your hand no matter how long you hold it.
The very, very first time you hear a conspiracy theory and you can't help but obsessively ponder how someone thought up the logic for it and you will always kind of believe it.
Someone who you know can sing better than they let on but they try to keep it secret for some dumb reason that you know it just for the encouragement, but you also worry about them a lot.
A really sweet, really spicy blend of spices. Best used on dark meat and really fresh seafood, but you'll probably die if you straight up drink the whole bottle at once.
Picture a really old Renaissance painting, but imagine they were trying to paint it as a snarky satire of the time, but everyone thinks it's the best piece of the age.
The last piece of cake cut in half, the books-stacked-in-columns-instead-of-rows shelf, everyone's mental image of what their hippie ancestor had to be when their wartorn lover got home.
Think about the front door of a really important government building with nothing but affable guards, but none of them really get to go inside much, so they work with what they were told in the last memo.
Something affectionate and furry that has been bred to not have any claws, but the trade-off was it grew a second row of teeth with episodic lockjaw.
You aren't sure if this is a 'let it pass by kneeling in the bathroom' or a 'should go to the hospital before it reaches your lungs' thing, but they've had it twice and they're immune system is well fit.
Experiences with them are basically like individual births or revelations. You realize a lot of things you didn't know before after you're half-drowned and wash up on their lap.
One of those escort missions in a video game where the person you're escorting is immune to damage or capture, but their AI keeps getting them stuck at corners for some reason.
i. you were born back when people still believed in beginnings, in fresh starts and re-sets, and trying again, all over. you are no quitter. you wouldn’t know how to quit love even if you tried; even if it was suffocating you and you were sure to die. no, you’re no quitter. (january)
ii. you are a child of melting snows. you are a child of the future. you do not live in the now, you do not settle, you do not make plans. one day you will love. when, all else is right. you are a child of melting snows, but darling, in life there are always fresh snows somewhere, spring is always not-quite there. (february)
iii. the earth smelled like frost when you were born. you have a razor-sharp mind and a quick tongue, but some people still get under your skin. and like frost under your mother’s feet, you crack, you melt, you become mist. (march)
iv. april showers bring may flowers. you are forever preparing the world for other people. your friends for their true best friend, your sister for your brother, your lover for the right one. you only love in interludes. (april)
v. god you are everything. the grass is never as green and the sky is never as high, and the breeze never as soft. you are perfection. but life does not deal in absolutes, and love is flawed. you will not find what you are looking for. (may)
vi. you are everyone's favourite afterthought. you are what tenderness feels like. darling, you are a field of dandelions swaying in the wind. you fix people. you let them build homes inside you. you make them whole. you are an afterthought. a rest-stop. it hurts in a place no map leads to. (june)
vii. when you were born the earth was scorched. you are a child of heat. you are a child of desert. you can do without love almost as long as you can do without water. and a little, a little goes a long way. it’s a good thing too, because baby, your pride makes loving you so damn hard. (july)
viii. quiet is how they describe you. they don’t know of the song you carry inside, of the screams unsettled in your lungs, of the poems and stories you have under your belt. you are the quiet one - the quiet revelation, the surprise, the coming out. the becoming. (august)
ix. melancholia. you are rain, you wash people clean. you are a builder, you help them rise. you are the wind, you help them fly. you are everyone’s best friend and no one's favourite lover. you disappear under the weight of good deeds. saints are revered, but not loved. it is difficult to be with someone on a pedestal. (september)
x. you are a shape-shifter. you do not know your face. you have been lost since you can remember. sometimes you are found at the bottom of a bottle, or in thick smoke coming out of his lungs. sometimes you are found. but not in love, no in the ashes of love. you are what endings look like. (october)
xi. the clouds were so low when you were born your sister thought she could reach them. overachievers. nothing is ever good enough. no one is ever enough. people are just a promise of what’s to come. how does it feel to live your life in the promiseland? (november)
xii. when you were born the sky was white. not light blue, not powder blue, but white. you are pure love. you are the one. but people are always looking to go back, to start over, to re-set. you are the one, but all it does - is make people realise they do not want to become. (december)