September

The water has begun to flow. It’s that time of year again when the wooden supports under my fragile porcelain well-being are eroded by drip-drip-drip of the semester’s relentless stress. It starts as a trickle but I react immediately, in nanoseconds, like the circuit elements that I can never quite puzzle out no matter how long I try. 

I traded my soul for a high earning potential. Or rather, I put it up for collateral, and I’m slowly paying off the debt with my mental health. There’s rarely a moment in which I don’t wonder if it’ll ever be worth it. Lately, I don’t think it ever will. As the days and weeks pass, I feel a bassy dread mounting, accompanied by a reedy-thin voice in my head singing a refrain: “You made a mistake.”

The summer refreshed me, put my feet up and brought me a beer. Fall pushed me out of the chair and has begun to pull my hairs out one by one.

Some days, good days, my name is Jane Got-This Kagan and I sit up straight and let the equations and the code and the diagrams wash over me, drinking them up with pleasure. I go to work and I smile and I help people, and I’m a net good in the world. I’ll see the last few of those days in late October. By November 22nd, I’ll wish I’d never been born.

I know my life is, at worst, still incredible. I know many people, shit, most people, have it harder than me. But I’m all I’ve got to compare anything too, and I’m not made for working and studying from 8 AM to 10 PM twice a week, and I’m not made for transistors and computer architecture, and I’m not made for saying “How may I help you?” fifty times in a day, as if I care, as if I’ve ever cared.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll keep going. But that’s stubbornness, not strength. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my time here, it’s that I’m only two things: obstinate and weak. Everything else is an array of variables, and I’m too tired to solve for them right now.

It was dark and it was the first time we’d been like that, together, alone. In your car and in the park and against every rule. 

Read More

darklips-heavylifts:

saskiesue:

sam-winchesters-lost-left-shoe:

bestiality7:

umm-just-another-timelord:

theauthor11:

runsleepygirl:

walk-barefoot:

veganbaby:

jellybeanjeunet:

sleezysays:


NASA recently released imagery showing the deforestation of America  …in just 34 years.

We are killing the Earth

Forever reblog.

Oh wow

THIS HURTS

How long are we going to keep closing our eyes to this? What are we going to do?

NEVER SCROLL PAST THIS

Its just going to become this blue and brown planet, children in the future will draw their planet with brown and not green like we used to

This needs to fucking change 

WALL-E IS BECOMING REAL LIFE

I wish we could do something about this but what can we do? No one would listen.

That’s a fucking shit attitude.

Not to dump on all the awesome save-the-earth ideas swirling around here but:
http://wafflesatnoon.com/images-of-earth-in-1978-and-2012-real-or-hoax/
Do your research. Stuff like this discredits the movement.

darklips-heavylifts:

saskiesue:

sam-winchesters-lost-left-shoe:

bestiality7:

umm-just-another-timelord:

theauthor11:

runsleepygirl:

walk-barefoot:

veganbaby:

jellybeanjeunet:

sleezysays:

NASA recently released imagery showing the deforestation of America  …in just 34 years.

We are killing the Earth

Forever reblog.

Oh wow

THIS HURTS

How long are we going to keep closing our eyes to this? What are we going to do?

NEVER SCROLL PAST THIS

Its just going to become this blue and brown planet, children in the future will draw their planet with brown and not green like we used to

This needs to fucking change 

WALL-E IS BECOMING REAL LIFE

I wish we could do something about this but what can we do? No one would listen.

That’s a fucking shit attitude.

Not to dump on all the awesome save-the-earth ideas swirling around here but:

http://wafflesatnoon.com/images-of-earth-in-1978-and-2012-real-or-hoax/

Do your research. Stuff like this discredits the movement.

(via motivationintohabit)

someday

may be we
                  look too far forward
                                                  and the blurry shapes we think we see

aren’t really there at all,
or, aren’t what we think.

but even if it’s all a delirious fantasy
(college-aged, fresh, and soft)
just the words that pool around our faces
(gentle, gold-rimmed, and airy)
are enough to fill the cracks in my chest.

and no, I’ve never felt like this either.
and I’m bad with sounds but good with marks
                                                               on
                                                             paper.

sometimes I wonder if the way we feel is different
if every love is like a fingerprint, unique, or
perhaps two prints, stacked on-on-another
tangled like legs in bed.

anyway,
(how I always find the lost thread of my thought)
let me feel with all my cells the stories we tell each other.

the future is not robots or revolution,
it’s the place where our minds come out to play together.
this painting is so beautiful, climb into the frame with me.

let the somedays slowly melt into nows, and vows, and forever. 

(or so we dare to hope).

In Transition

Sometimes I get frightfully bored with my life, because I feel like in every facet of it I’m in transition.

Read More

the fourth (iv)

if I could see you
lit up redwhiteandblue
every year till I’m one hundred and two—

well, 
I think that’d be pretty cool.

do you?

light in

if green lightens to
yellow,and purple to
red—
(who needs blue? we’ve
already got the sky)then

we were those bushes all
tangledup nice growingbig

you are a pat of butter
melting in the sun, well
underneaththatis

i am a crisp apple
praying for a bite
beforetheworms

we are those bushes, one
purple one green,

together we will grow
big nice tall strong
in harmony

i hope i never take your sunlight 
away 

drunk on a bus

I love you like
A habit that I can’t break I love you like
Skating down a hill I love you like
Easy peasey lemon squeezy I love you like
Videotapes no one watches anymore I love you like
Happy tears pooling in the corner of your lips I love you like
The weight of your head in my lap I love you like
Playlists and up and coming artists I love you like
Broken shoelaces I love you like
It’s in my nature I love you like
I’ll never stop.

Would this be a good time to read Baudelaire’s poetry and sob quietly to myself

I dunno, just laying face down on the couch and waiting for some baby boomers to die, I guess
Millennials, when asked about plans for the future (via alwaysfaithfulterriblelizard)

(via warmbug)

Jane (n.):
1. A college student cultivating a love-hate relationship with academia.
2. A runner who hates to get out of bed.
3. A bright-eyed girl with CSS wishes and HTML dreams.
4. One who was gone back to.
5. Tweets out the manic and tumblrs the depressive.

When I'm sad, it usually goes here. When I'm happy, I find people to smile at. Or it goes here.

view archive



These are not poems.

These are not songs.

Talk to me, baby.