Who am I? I am pessimistic and optimistic. A hopeless romantic, but also realistic. I find beauty in unexpected places and people, and yet I’m very judgmental. I have so much to say, but don’t like to talk. I have a big heart but haven’t really had the chance to use it. Apparently all these things can be true at the same time: and that’s the problem with identity. It’s everything and nothing, both authentic and inauthentic. There is no one version of me, I’m always changing, with every day, every new situation, every new person I encounter, with every friend I lose. Things change. So does identity. We want different things. We grow. We learn from our mistakes. Or we don’t. Either way, we aren’t who we were yesterday. So today I’m a hopeless romantic. Tomorrow I think all that is bullshit. The day after that? Who knows?



Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.
And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes
you cannot even breathe deeply, and
the night sky is no home, and
you have cried yourself to sleep enough times
that you are down to your last two percent, but

nothing is infinite,
not even loss.

You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day
you are going to find yourself again.  

In 1784, five years before he became president of the United States, George Washington, 52, was nearly toothless. So he hired a dentist to transplant nine teeth into his jaw—having extracted them from the mouths of his slaves.

The sorry legacy of the founders

(via so-treu)

fuck your american heroes

(via youngblackandvegan)