purple tapes

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27052017 •  🎧 : Swimming Fool - Seventeen》

Perfectionist me: *screams internally because the purple washi tape isn’t straight and because of the small gap between the blue tapes*
Lazy me: ehhh that will do. i can’t get it straight or fix that gap *shrugs*.

ig: ttstudys

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4/2/17 - so happy with february’s spread ^^ it’s water month so that means no fizzy drinks or sweet stuff just fruity water all the way!! also, porter robinson has been my jam lately, which explains the ‘worlds’ background ~ my typography needs a little work but apart from that i’m content with how it looks! felt like pairing this with a lovely shot of the sunset the other day!! perks of living literally a road away from the sea ~

Chptr 17 - Pathway to Violence - Prom
Sue Klebold
Chptr 17 - Pathway to Violence - Prom

Saturday, April 17, 1999   6:00 pm

We’d spent that year begging Dylan to get a haircut, to no avail, but I convinced him to tie his hair back into a ponytail with one of my own elastics for the prom. He put his prescription glasses in his pocket and donned a pair of small-framed sunglasses. We thought he looked
very handsome.


Alison, our renter, came over and offered to take a picture of the three of us. In the picture, Dylan is clowning around, hamming it up like a professional model, Zoolander-style. The sharp lines of his formal wear stand in stark contrast to the faded flannel shirts and worn blue jeans Tom and I are wearing. He kept his sunglasses on as he posed with us; he wore dark glasses often during the last weeks of his life. I believe now he was hiding behind them.

Tom had remembered to charge the batteries on our video camera, and he filmed Dylan briefly before Robyn arrived. The conversation between them is stilted; clearly, neither of them is comfortable on camera. But we have looked back on this pre-prom video many times, and shown it to others. It is absolutely stunning how normal Dylan seems.

He and Tom talk lazily about baseball; Dylan mimes his hero, Randy Johnson, pitching in an ill-fitting tuxedo. Tom makes some comment about growing up, and Dylan remarks he’ll never have kids. Tom says he may change his mind, and Dylan says, “I know. I know. Someday I’ll look back at this and say, ‘What was I thinking?!!’ ” It is breathtakingly prophetic. When Tom persists in filming over Dylan’s protests, Dylan pinches small handfuls of snow from a nearby bush, lobbing the miniature snowballs playfully at Tom until the camera stops running. The fondness between them is palpable. It breaks my heart.

Robyn arrived in good time, looking lovely in a deep blue-purple dress. Tom taped Dylan presenting her with her corsage, and smiling down at her as she struggled to pin a rose to his lapel. I made paparazzi jokes and asked them to move so I could get a picture without parked cars in the background. Since Dylan had assured us he and Robyn were just friends, I was a little surprised—and frankly tickled—to see him put his arm around her.

In the last few frames on the tape Tom shot, the two of them smile into the camera. Then, self consciously but sweetly, they both begin to laugh.