ᴏɴᴄᴇ-ᴜᴘᴏɴ-ᴀ-ᴍɪᴅsᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ-ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ*

you three hours later, you text her four hours later to compensate, she says she likes you but purposely posts photos of herself cuddled up with some other dude so she knows you see it. He tells you he misses you, you tell him you miss him, he deletes you on all forms of social media then disappears off the face of Earth never to be seen from again. STOP IT. This s.hit is not a game. Abandon ship. Stop f.ucking around with people who aren’t worth your time because that means you’re not focusing on the people who are. You’re doing yourself a terrible injustice by letting someone who isn’t worth a damn dictate your feelings.

 

yeah i miss you but i ain’t gonna tell you that.

people will come and go from your life. all good things must come to an end eventually.  you cannot let these mere facts of life completely control your happiness. you must not depend on these things to feel whole, you must find wholeness in yourself. 

“

It's a cry that echos through the years
The pain etched on each generation
I've been told it's history, that I am
A hundred and fifty years too late
To try and feel some type of way
But the hole in my heart wont seal up
It hurts to know that I've lost so much of
My family
My culture
My language
All because someone wanted gold
All because they needed land
And plots to call their own
Now they tell me its okay
For a school to have the mascot
Dress up in the same clothes as my Teton ancestors
They show the games on the tv
There are crowds of headresses
And dozens of faces cover in paint
Their "war cries" echo through the stadium
Where they pass a ball from one end to the other
And during half time you can watch the redman
Run and hop and holler
Impersonating a warrior in his prime
Its sad that these people see no wrong in these acts
"Its a tradition!" they claim
"Something thats been done for ages"
Cue the bitter laughter
Its a point thats proven true
Just grab an American history book
And flip to the beginning
There will be hundreds of tales
About the fight against these brown native men
And even after the war was won
They continue to earse the brown from his skin
They locked the people on strips of land
And took the children to boarding schools
Where they where told
How to dress
How to speak
And even how to live
They took their names
They took their homes
They even took their words
And all the while the Caucasian man was chanting
"Kill the indian, save the man"