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I mean I know this sounds lame and desperate but I kind of need somebody to vent to right now. Especially somebody with experience with substance abuse? Please message me if anybody is feelin helpful

(notes on the incoming freshman class, after orientation night)

They come to us like kicked dogs.
Trembling and speaking in quick,
nervous barks. The way they say
their names sounds like a plea for
forgiveness. I want to ask, why do
you introduce yourself apologetically?
Who taught you to carry shame like a
heavy backpack? Why are you all so
hell-bent on keeping your arms full?

I ask them how they are. Stressed, they
say. Busy, they say. These are the answers
they are trained to say. Because if you’re not
busy, you must be lazy, right? How can you be
successful if your life isn’t stressful?

The girl in the back row doesn’t notice it,
but she is caving in on herself. She crosses
her legs, slumps her shoulders, folds her
arms across her chest. She knows how to
collapse, she has done it for years- since she
learned there is a right and wrong way to speak,
to hear, to grow. Silence is the only method of
guaranteed safety. You can’t get in trouble
if you don’t say anything. She knows how to
collapse, but does not understand how to expand.

None of them make eye contact with me,
just their desks. They shift and shuffle
painfully in their seats. When I ask them
to share one unique fact about themselves,
they struggle to come up with anything.
One boy says he plays soccer. Another
doesn’t know. A girl says she draws
sometimes, but isn’t very good at it.

I wonder if they have ever knocked
at their own door. If they even notice
the pillars of potential they hold, when they
will finally give themselves permission to
happen. I wonder if and when they will
discover just how here they are.

Perhaps this is just a phase,
or maybe these are the faces we raised;
startled by their own existence,
convinced they are accidental."
-THE CLASS OF 2018, by Blythe Baird (via blythebrooklyn)

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have i told you guys about the Flint rock before?

its this rectangle rock thing thats by the highway and almost every night for 50 years its been painted over and painted over, usually with memorials for loved ones





and even though is illegal no one ever stops them and every few years people get together to peel the paint off to start fresh and look at all the paint that comes off



and nobody knows who started the tradition or what the rock even is for

i just think its really cool