I love all of Mary Oliver’s words.
and this is my life now.
Wake up. Wake up to the September air and realize that your parents were married in it. Wake up, child. You’re only seventeen. Things aren’t hopeless—not yet. Look. Look out your window. The street is paved with the dreams of everyone who has stepped there before you. Yours is just a layer upon the fabric, indiscernible unless you’re truly looking. And who is, besides yourself? Who else wants to know your dreams? I’ll give you a hint right now, save you some trouble later on. Look to your left. Are they sitting there beside you? They often are. Quietly. Both of you are waiting for the unknowable. And they want to rip things off of you, gently of course, and get to the heart of the matter. What tickles your soul? (How do my hands fit in yours?) What makes your bones feel fluid? (Dancing words on a page.) What scares you so much you could cry? (You.) Take a deep breath and realize that the shapes you make in the air with your tongue mean so very little in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes it is better to let your mind speak. Breathe that September air. Before you know it, it will be October.
Remember who you wanted to be.
High school Bren (remember when Formspring was a thing?) and present Bren have similar fears.
if i had a dollar for every time an adult asked me about college then i’d have enough money to pay for college
autumny gif of brenna for an autumny day.
Mindy Kaling on Howard Stern, 9.15.14
do you ever daydream of dressing straight boys in better clothes