If my mom sends me one more message with the phrase “bless you” in it, I’m going to scream.
I have the cutest, sweetest, bestest cat in the world. That is all.
I’m never going to be able to write this 20 page research paper in time. I’m just going to drop out of grad school and become a hobo.
"what do you want to do after college?"
"ideally, dismantle the power structure of current society"
If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without the annual argument with my mom…