picturesquegrave
The problem is that white people see racism as conscious hate, when racism is bigger than that. Racism is a complex system of social and political levers and pulleys set up generations ago to continue working on the behalf of whites at other people’s expense, whether whites know/like it or not. Racism is an insidious cultural disease. It is so insidious that it doesn’t care if you are a white person who likes black people; it’s still going to find a way to infect how you deal with people who don’t look like you. Yes, racism looks like hate, but hate is just one manifestation. Privilege is another. Access is another. Ignorance is another. Apathy is another. And so on. So while I agree with people who say no one is born racist, it remains a powerful system that we’re immediately born into. It’s like being born into air: you take it in as soon as you breathe. It’s not a cold that you can get over. There is no anti-racist certification class. It’s a set of socioeconomic traps and cultural values that are fired up every time we interact with the world. It is a thing you have to keep scooping out of the boat of your life to keep from drowning in it. I know it’s hard work, but it’s the price you pay for owning everything.

Scott Woods (X)

he motherfucking dropped the truth.

(via mesmerisme)

psych-facts
I don’t have a fear of commitment. I have a fear of abandonment. We all screw things up. I screw things up, especially with people I love. I get needy, I get moody, I get distant, I want to be close, I get confused. I don’t understand all of it, but I keep pushing because I hope this thing, this universe, there’s no way that I’m the only person out there who wants something this bad, if I want it, someone else out there must too.
picturesquegrave

youmightfindyourself:

Before  going to sleep Jen and I used to ask each other what the best and worst  part of the day was. Usually the best part was something like, “When  you walked by me and ran your fingers through my hair,” or, “When we  were at the hospital and you held my hand.” The day after we found out  Jen’s liver was failing we came home with Hospice Care and spent the  evening with family and friends. That night, as we lay next to each  other for possibly the last time, I asked Jen what she loved the most  about that day. Jen thought for a minute then turned and, looking deeper  into my eyes than ever before, Jen said, “I Loved it all.”

The Battle We Didn’t Choose