❝and all the roads we have to walk are winding. and all the lights that lead us there are blinding. there are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how. because maybe, you’re gonna be the one that SAVES ME. and after all, you’re my w o n d e r w a l l .❞
“So you’re saying you don’t want to come to this party tonight?” The frat boy, Harry thought his name was Mike, was standing next to him in the Starbucks line, trying desperately to convince Harry to go to a party his frat was throwing that night.
“No, I’m saying I have other plans tonight.”
“Cancel them! Bring whoever you’re hanging out with, is it that psychology major girl? She can come, she’s hot, one of my friends, Jasper is really into her, really likes that smart, quiet type. I mean unless, the two of you are… you know… but she can totally still come.”
Harry frowned, “His name is Jasper? Like the ghost?”
“Yeah, your girlfriend knows who he is. They have a ton of classes together, both psychology majors.” Harry refrained from saying that she had never mentioned him.
your mother wrote to me today:
‘five years. why did he have to go, when he was so gentle, when there’s so much cruelty still out in the world?’
and maybe one day she’ll let herself out of purgatory,
and maybe one day she’ll believe she couldn't save you,
and maybe one day she’ll forgive me too.
i haven’t replied yet, it has sat with me like a migraine for the whole day, tell me what to say to your mother jacque? tell me what to say that i haven’t said before.
i am so sorry. i am so sorry. i am so sorry. do you need anything? can i bring you anything? let me help.
it’s mother’s day on sunday, but jacque, what does that mean to a mother without a son?
five years is such a long time, i hope you’re well. i hope you’re finally living. i hope you know that i miss you. and god knows jacque, your mother misses you.
and jacque, just tell me what to say to your mother.
Last week, I realized I lost one of my necklaces: a studded starfish hanging on a thin silver chain. My friend Clare gave me this necklace, back in 2009. I was heading over to Denmark, for a summer at camp. She had packed a tiny jewelry box for me, wrapping the entire thing in tape. She told me to open it on the plane. I admit that I couldn’t wait. Instead, I started peeling back the layers of tape at the departure gate. Inside was a bottle of hot pink nail polish, a green bobble hair tie, the movie stub from Up, her starfish necklace, a hilarious clipping from The Onion, and one of her infamous letters to me. I’ve saved all the letters Clare sent me during our summers apart. Many of them are in the memory box underneath my bed. But this letter, the one she wrote for me to read on my eight hour flight to Copenhagen, that I have tucked in that same jewelry box, her permanent marker writing fading or ruined by my un-taping. This all happened almost eight years ago. In all that time, Clare and I have moved past writing letters across state lines or countries. We have texted and called. There have been long, almost incoherent voicemail messages. We have had bubble tea on the steps of the Flushing Library. And then, slowly, there was less of that. During our senior year of high school, we shared the same locker; no space was too small for our righteous girlhood. We kept in touch during college the way a lot of close high school friends do. Once we graduated and moved back home, we saw each other often and instant messaged during the day at work. It was a mirror of the instant messaging we did back in high school, late at night, about nothing, about everything. I’m so sad that I can’t find this necklace. I’ve turned my apartment upside down. I asked my dog, very seriously, if he did something with it. He’s a dog, so he just stared at me. I don’t know exactly when people go from close friend to casual friend. With Clare, I can’t trace it back to any specific moment. It’s no one’s fault. It’s not even personal. If she’s reading this, Clare, I’m sorry for being so dramatic, I know it’s just a necklace. But it was your necklace, it was your necklace. Even at sixteen, I was so honored that you gave it to me.
So, just a quick bit of preface. Mark ( @markiplier ) uploaded a video about an hour or so ago titled “I Feel Lost.” In this video, he talked about how he hasn’t felt the same amount of adoration for us as he used to, and how he’s scared that he’s disappointed us. This is basically just my thoughts on this video.
I’ve been struggling with myself a lot recently, and I’ve felt like I havent done anything good in my life. I had almost given up, until in this new video when I heard Mark say, “You guys saved me.” That one small sentence-it gave me the motivation to do anything and everything. Knowing that I, along with almost 17 million others, contributed to saving the life of the one man to whom I owe my own life, it made me realize that I have done something good in my life. That sentence has given me the feeling that I can do whatever I want. Thank you Mark. I love you so much, and I appreciate all you’ve done for me and all of your other fans. There is no way you could ever disappoint me, unless you, like, murder someone or something like that. And I apologize if this is a mess, it’s currently almost 4am here and I’m kinda sick, but I just really needed to get this out here. Thank you so much to anyone who reads this. You are all absolutely fantastic.
Troubled individual encounters suave (stalker? vampire?) farmer outside workplace at 9 in the morning in the rain, holding a hot pepper of medium quality aloft. Is wordlessly presented with said hot pepper in an oddly matrimonial fashion. Proceeds into work, leaving farmer satisfied with their flirtation skills.