Anonymous asked: You don't have to be alone tonight...
Alice, I swear I never left you.
thisstormbringsstrangeloyalties:
Would you talk to me if my face was permanently stuck like this?
My face.
Anonymous asked: hello yes this is the president of your blog ha i bet you thought it was you right? well ur WRONG IT'S ME NOW GET ON YO KNEES AND PREPARE YOURSELF.
I’m on my knees. My body is ready.
Come at me, bro.
Margarineflies
Here’s the thing.
You know how margarine LOOKS like butter? You know how margarine TASTES like butter? You know how in general margarine and butter are almost the same thing but not?
Well. Moths LOOK like butterflies. Moths may even TASTE like butterflies (I wouldn’t know for sure, but it’s always a possibility.) And moths just generally ARE butterflies but not really.
So, with this in mind, shouldn’t moths actually be called margarineflies? Wouldn’t the world just make a little more sense if they were? I think so. I think moths ARE margarineflies. Always have been and always will be. Thank you for caring.
wpeorituy asked: hey
This isn’t a question. Please bother me on my other blog. Found under my info.
A Man in His Prime
Okay. So in English class we were analyZing this poem and there was a part comparing an old man to a tattered coat. And my teacher started talking about how a coat is actually like a man in his prime and she listed off all the things a man does that a coat can do too. So in my head I was thinking-“you know what else a man in his prime can do?”And I spent the rest of class writing this on the back of my worksheet.
I gently wrapped my fingers around my coat, lifting it to me. I donned it and sighed in deep content as my coat’s warmth surrounded me, comforting me in a way no one else ever could. Its soft lining gently brushed my skin as I pulled open the door to the great outdoors. I shivered as the icy airs hit me with such force my breath was forced from my lungs. Goosebumps pricked up my spine and down my arms, but the silky soft touch of my coat soon erased them. I stuffed my hands deep inside my pockets as I ran off my porch and to my car. I jerked open the door and threw myself onto the driver’s seat, gasping for breath. When I had gathered myself, I pulled my hands out of my coat’s pockets, clutching my keys. I thrusted the hard metal into the ignition and cranked the car on. The engine roared and fell into a deep purr, vibrating my body. I hurriedly turned up the heat, blasting myself with hot waves of air which fought away my earlier chills. I pulled out and began driving toward my destination. As I drove, heat continued pouring into my vehicle and I began to sweat. It dripped down my brow and the back of my neck, soaking my hair and causing it to stick to my moist skin. I knew I could have taken off my coat. I could have ended it all right there and then, but I didn’t. I sat the whole journey, wet and sticky, my coat still wrapped around my body. Finally, I brought the car to a stop, causing me to jerk slightly. I removed the keys from the ignition and once more dropped them into my pocket. Then I opened the door. The biting winds hit me again, but this time it was not painful for me as it was the first time. This time it was sweet relief from the sweltering heat of the car. My coat still clung to me, eXpertly making sure I received the perfect balance of chills and warmth. I walked to my friend’s front door, reveling in my last few moments alone in the comfort of my coat. I knocked on the door and was invited inside. This was it. This was the final moment. I carefully peeled my coat off me, feeling its weight lifted from my body. I put it on the coat rack where it hung proudly after a job well done. I glanced at it one last time before I joined my friend. “Until neXt time,” I whispered. And then I left.
