“God, God, what do I do / after all this survival?”— Traci Brimhall, from “Vive, Vive,” published in The Missouri Review
tired of waiting around. hope’s the worst part. something has to change. someone has to change. and it’s me, it’s me, it’s me. the dream’s gotten out of hand. the dream’s all i see anymore. it makes me weak! i’m tired of that. it shouldn’t make me feel small. this house is on fire. what once warmed me now burns. it’s stupid. i know i’m being young. i know i’m showing my colors. pink and rosy is hard to hide. i glow with it. embarrassing. i’m sorry. i’m still learning how to do this all right, how to untangle these threads. i swear i’m trying.
i love how bugs bunny is totally calm as long as everyone leaves him alone but as soon as someone bothers him he’s like “ok. now i have to kill him”
Bugs Bunny’s defining trait is that he never starts shit but ALWAYS finishes it
