no one can stop me from dressing bad
n o one
watch me wear clashing patterns
fashion is fake
theres a line between confidence and not caring and i walk it like a tightrope
no one can stop me from dressing bad
n o one
watch me wear clashing patterns
fashion is fake
theres a line between confidence and not caring and i walk it like a tightrope
that “you’re always invited” stuff doesn’t work for me you have to personally invite me or else I’ll feel like I’m showing up uninvited
Roses are red, that much is true, but violets are purple, not fucking blue.
I have been waiting for this post all my life.
They are indeed purple,
But one thing you’ve missed:
The concept of “purple”
Didn’t always exist.
Some cultures lack names
For a color, you see.
Hence good old Homer
And his “wine-dark sea.”
A usage so quaint,
A phrasing so old,
For verses of romance
Is sheer fucking gold.
So roses are red.
Violets once were called blue.
I’m hugely pedantic
But what else is new?
My friend you’re not wrong
About Homer’s wine-ey sea!
Colours are a matter
Of cultural contingency;
Words are in flux
And meanings they drift
But the word purple
You’ve given short shrift.
The concept of purple,
My friends, is old
And refers to a pigment
once precious as gold.
By crushing up molluscs
From the wine-dark sea
You make a dye:
Imperial decree
Meant that in Rome,
to wear purpura
was a privilege reserved
For only the emperor!
The word ‘purple’,
for clothes so fancy,
Entered English
By the ninth century
Why then are voilets
Not purple in song?
The dye from this mollusc,
known for so long
Is almost magenta;
More red than blue.
The concept of purple
is old, and yet new.
The dye is red,
So this might be true:
Roses are purple
And violets are blue
Hirple - To limp or walk awkwardly
Cirple - An old Scots word for the hindquarters of a horse
“Roses are red, violets are purple,
My boner for you has caused me to hirple.”
…
My, how romantic!
DYING. I AM DYING.
Calling theshitpostcalligrapher! We need @theshitpostcalligrapher
@kiranovember u better buy this as a commission lmao

This post has evolved.
when i was a wee smeet i wrote my mom this poem:
roses are red
violets are violet
if i had a jet plane
i’d let you be the pilot
“If your friend is crying over a break up in the middle of the night, and you have a Psychology final at 6 AM.. it’s okay to choose the test and support her in the morning. If you’ve promised someone that you would see a movie with them but stayed up all night coughing your brains out.. it’s okay to reschedule. You do not need to feel obligated to sacrifice your own self for the sake of someone else all of the time. The only person I was born to nurture is me.”
— disappoint people and be okay with it (what I’m learning)