If You Can't Even Spend 5 Minutes With God Now On Earth How Are You Going To Last Eternity With Him?

When I was 15, studying about how millions of sperm were released but only one could fertilize the egg, my teacher told us that we were winners in the race of life.

I felt pretty special back then. Not anymore though!

I just didn't realise there were billions of winners on earth. My teacher missed that point out on purpose.

it’s the smallest habits. how you spend your mornings. how you talk to yourself. what you read. what you watch. who you share your energy with. who has access to you. that will change your life.

Studying is so unnecessarily hated, so can just appreciate the sheer aesthetic of studying?

Waking up early and drinking green tea with textbooks on your lap as light spills in through the open windows. Laying out post-its and notebooks and coloured pens as you begin to write colour coordinated notes for each subject. Having textbooks and notebooks spread out all over your desk with your laptop in the center, as you make powerpoint presentations for each chapter. The feeling of scribbling down formulae that you pin up all over your walls, creating a colourful display of knowledge in your room. Having a binder filled to the brim with detailed diagrams with annotations and post-its all over them.

And if you’re chaotic and messy and disorganised? That’s equally aesthetic!

Having pinned your hair up in a messy bun as you sit on the floor, surrounded by open binders that have pages upon pages of notes spilling out of them. Sticking your pencil through that bun because you can’t find your rubber band and then cursing two minutes later because where is my pencil it was right here. Piles of used coffee cups and plates from the hundreds of different snacks that have just piled up in your room. Messy diagrams sellotaped to the bookshelves because you can’t find any of your notebooks. Random pieces of information scribbled on the cuff of your jeans because there’s no more space on your arms and you can’t find a spare bit of paper. That one page of notes that you made that was actually informative and organised before it trailed off into three pages of doodles.

Studying is aesthetic. And the aesthetic of studying is a fucking great motivator to start doing it.

This is one of the days when I can't sleep in peace because there's a lot of things in my mind that I can't help but have a conversation with myself.

I know am hurt. I want to be petty and complain.

But I'm also trying to forgive by giving myself reason on why I should.

The sound of heavy rain while you are in bed.

“Can I tell you a secret? You don’t have to be in a relationship. I mean it. I know they force it down your throat until you choke on it. Girls aren’t pretty unless they’re wanted. Boys aren’t men unless they’re having sex with someone. People aren’t lovable until they’re dating someone. But a relationship won’t always make you happy, and as wonderful as romance is, it isn’t the only love that exists. I have seen friendships that are deeper and more pure than couples who swear it’s forever - and yet the friendship is the one people ignore. I have heard so often “nobody loves me” out of the mouths of people who are single. And it kills me because if you ask them: where are your parents, your teachers, your classmates, your pets - they say, yes, okay, but it doesn’t count. Of course it counts, love doesn’t diminish just because someone doesn’t want to have sex with you. In fact, doesn’t it sort of make that love more real that they want nothing - not even a date - out of you? It is pretty to be in love. It’s magical, I’m sure. But it’s also wonderful to stop for ice cream in your prom dress with six other girls. It’s also wonderful to go visit the world with nothing but a bunch of buddies who are really excited about learning. The problem is: we’ve made everything about “the one”. But maybe “the one” is just you, loving yourself, having fun, and being happy. Maybe instead of looking for our other halves, we should be piecing ourselves together. Maybe I wasn’t born unfinished. Maybe I am the one who makes myself better.”

— Single serving size // r.i.d

you know how you can feel yourself starting to develop a crush on someone but it’s still very faint so you kind of feel like an old man standing on a hilltop, sniffing the air like ”ah yes… there might be a storm coming”

I don’t procrastinate. I proactively accumulate guilt-contingent motivation.

I’ll never regret someone that I had an amazing time and experience with. Even if we fall off. You made my life special at a certain time. We grew together, even if we grew apart. Thank you

i hated - hated - my 7th grade english teacher, but he did say something that has stuck with me this whole time: the actual mark of maturity in someone is whether they take responsibility.

over time, this has become something i find to apply to too-many things. this weighty, complicated thing - responsible. almost direct from the latin respondere - the verb for "to answer to".

taking responsibility is not just "being in control of". it also means being gentle. being able to apologize. being able to accept fault. to notice your own actions and change them to be better. it is not just saying "ah fuck i dropped the plate," it is saying "okay, i'll go get the broom."

at 16, when her parents tell her i put a roof over your head, she spends that night curled in my lap, sobbing, trying to articulate something too-heavy-for-words - that they think responsibility is just about obligation; that she is bound to them because they are responsible for her. that she feels, over and over, responsible for their emotions. that she spends hours cartwheeling over eggshells, feeling the drip of their expectations slowly sushing down her body.

according to my mom, responsibility and privilege are partners. this is probably true. a car (privilege) is a weapon if used (responsibility) incorrectly. my dog is my responsibility, and he brings me the privilege of hours spent in sunshine. there are, though, a lot of times people are given one without the other - the privilege, and no responsibility for their actions. the responsibility, and nothing but hours of obligation, over-and-over. i have also learned: there is a difference between fault and responsibility. this will be important for you at some point, if you are watching.

at 21, when i am begging him again to just listen, i am asking him to take responsibility for the span of our relationship. for the ways he has shoved thorns into every part of my body. i come across as needy, because it is my job to be responsible for the relationship - somehow, he has escaped that. it is always my job to ask for help. to beg for him to just put in any-ounce-of-more.

how easily responsibility becomes assumed. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to take care of dinner. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to get groceries, to clean the house, to mealplan, to do laundry. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to wear smart clothing. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to blend in with the rest of society.

at 25, it is happening again. this is a different man in a different city, and the responsibility is one that is demanded of me. he tells me he will skip off the world and into the darkness if i break his heart, no matter how much he breaks mine. i am back to begging - get help, get better, i cannot lift you if you do not try to stand with me. i am also responsible for myself - and then, suddenly, responsible for the entire life of somebody. i remember sitting there asking him - when will it be your turn to do the carrying? and the way he wrinkled his nose at me. i would laugh-cry: i feel like i'm your mother and he would start gagging. nothing would change. still running after him, making sure he washed his clothes and took care of himself and made those appointments and did anything. my own health was suffering.

a lot of discussion about consequence is really a discussion of responsibility. i am an internet poet. i made a little hellsite my unfortunately-unpaid home. i believe, in my heart of hearts - make what you want, but be responsible for it. whenever we make things, we are bound to them, end of story. this is a real-life thing. watch who in your life hates having responsibility. watch the way they expect other people to have responsibility. this sense they have: that responsibility is punishment, is unfair to unload on them. that someone else should do the carrying.

i am 26 at the start of 2020. we all know what happens then. the average person is asked to take responsibility. for many, this is second-nature. simple. occasionally annoying, but eventually habitual. for many others, though, this is their great and honest reckoning. they misunderstand civil liberty to mean - a land where everything, always, is just-about-me. on a personal level, when i am not absolutely livid about this population, i am sort-of sad for them. one of the good things about responsibility is that it builds community. each of these people, one at a time, has been making the same statement: i am alone in this world. i am blisteringly, horribly lonely.

i have noticed, over time - the way that responsibility is borne. how careful i have to be as a queer cuban writer. how careful some asshole on twitter is-not-careful-at-all. knowing that if i am too-loud. abrasive, unflattering: i could make my whole community responsible for my behavior. that people would read my work and say - see! this is why there aren't that many of these types of writers. that others can make bigger, bolder mistakes - but it will just be their mistake to make; their-singular-responsibility. that what i am "careful" about is making my posts well-researched, thought-out, accessible, funny. that what others are rabidly angry about being careful about - that they would suddenly become responsible for bigotry. this horrible sense: you have no idea what it means to be forced to bear this weight, and you find it terrifying.

i have been responsible for a long time. laughing, i tell my therapist eldest daughter, middle child syndrome. i was a latchkey kid. i was the first one home and had to be sure i got the fire lit or there wasn't heat. written like that, it sounds like something from charles dickens: alone, shivering in a house that isn't home, feeding tinder to the back of the wood stove. i have been a delight to have in class. i was always charmingly responsible. i have had-to-be. there was no other option.

burnout is high, i'm told. over and over, the media paints people like me as being responsible for how we are treated. they will say it's not your fault, but we all know they think it is my responsibility. people are violent to me; it is my responsibility to be a more properly-trained minority. my boss is cruel; it's my responsibility to find a new job or just go hungry. it is not the responsibility of others to help me figure out my medical debt, i should try asking more questions at the pharmacy. it is not the responsibility of public schools to help students get an education - it is the responsibility of 17-year-olds to sign into a lifetime of debt. it is not the responsibility of the government to protect my right to choose; it's my responsibility to simply not get into any situation that might require me having an opinion. it's satisfying to watch the general, quiet strike of minimum-wage workers: the way others, confused, are demanding the same question - why aren't other people taking responsibility for the things i don't want to do myself?

the other day, i saw a post from someone who hurt me. it was sort of embarrassingly on-the-nose. he's kissing someone new now (god protect her). under the two of them smiling, the caption reads: thank you to this responsible, beautiful queen for constantly taking care of me.

now be honest. answer the following. fill in the blanks. bring your truth to your throat and keep her. 1. in general, it is normal for a [ ] to have more responsibility than a [ ]. 2. you are responsible for [ ]. 3. when you tell [ ] to take responsibility, they will say [ ]. 4. in your life, it is normal for [ ] to take responsibility. 5. when did that start? 6. and how is it going?