barbara park, the author of that junie b jones series you probably read in kindergarten and first grade, died today. i feel like it’s necessary to make a post about this because those books are some of the first i consciously remember reading and that inspired me to find joy in books. and it’s honestly just really sad because i loved those books
WHAT OMFG NOOOOOOOO.
Thanks for Junie B., Mrs., Lucille, and That Grace.
n. the desire to be struck by disaster—surviving a plane crash, losing everything in a fire, plunging over a waterfall—which would put a kink in the smooth arc of your life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of your life and the other.
according to physics, nothing ever quite touches. when you lay your hand on something, there is a microscopic amount of space between the atoms of your hand and whatever you’re touching. so no, officer, technically i’m not jacking off right now
do you ever meet one of those people who is so heartbreakingly lovely and then you find out they’ve had a horrible past, they’ve lost their parents or a sibling but they are still trucking along being kind to everyone and it’s the saddest thing because how can such a kind soul be born of such misery
Their unfortunate past has taught them the importance of kindness which is why they are that way