the thing to realize here is that conservatives find the idea of paying workers a livable wage so absurd that they make hyperbolic comparisons like this
because fifteen dollars an hour and a hundred thousand dollars an hour both mean the same thing to them; more than you deserve
^That commentary is very important.
I just wanted to draw them drunk and making out
I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing dialogue hasdfdfhlasdfkkaksdf
This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.
It’s been a few hours, you’ve just been hanging there. You’ve been quiet, too quiet. Usually there’s music playing, or your foot steps could be heard. But today, you’re quiet. Your little sister, who doesn’t normally come to greet you because you lock yourself away, decides to see what you’re doing. She assumes you’re taking a nap, or doing some homework quietly. She runs up the stairs, eager to see, but she comes to an immediate halt. You’re not doing your homework, nor taking a nap. Your music isn’t playing and you aren’t walking around. You’re hanging there, completely still, now just like her. At this moment, her whole world shatters. Everything she has ever known, looked up to, loved, is hanging there by a thread. At this moment, her life has been changed forever. At this moment, she wishes she was hanging with you.
Before you decide to take your life, imagine who will find you. Imagine them walking into a room, and seeing you just hanging there. Whether it be your little sister, little brother, mother father, grandparents, a friend. Imagine what will happen when they find you. No, they will not say “Finally, they’re gone.” No, they will not say “I’m happy they did that.” No, they will not say “I never loved them anyways.” They will die. Their hearts will break. They will hurt, more than you ever could. They will cry, scream, and break down. They’ll believe it’s all just a dream, praying to wake up. Except, they won’t feel that for a few seconds, or a few days, not weeks, nor months. They will feel that until the day they die. Everyday will be hell. They’ll think of you ever second. They’ll hate themselves for not being able to help or save you. They’ll wish they could die too. They’ll want to give up, just to be with you. They won’t be ever be happy again. They won’t smile. They won’t go back to their daily routine. They’ll die every time they walk past your room, or see a picture of you, or think of a memory with you. They’ll think, but stay quiet. They’ll visit your grave, feeling a knife go through their chest every time. And every morning when they wake up, no matter how long it’s been, they’ll wake up to thinking they’ll see you, only to be let down once again. And every night, they will cry themselves to sleep, because even though they refuse to admit it, know you’re gone forever.
Before you decide to take your life, think of your family, burying you. Yes, your own mother and father are planning your funeral. It’s supposed to be the other way around, but it’s not. They’ll have to call the cops, sign a death certificate, pick out clothing, buy a tomb stone, a casket, pick out flower arrangements, and more; All for their child’s funeral. The morning of your funeral, everyone who loves you is wearing black. Tears are streaming down their face, while their heart is breaking. Everyone who you thought didn’t need you, or didn’t care, are waiting in line to see you. They aren’t waiting in line at a party, or a graduation, or at a wedding reception. They’re waiting to see you, hands folded, lifeless, in a casket.
Before you decide to take your life, think of everyone you will be hurting. Don’t you dare say no one, because absolutely everyone will be affected. Your grandparents, won’t have a grandchild anymore. Your parents, won’t have a child anymore. Your brother or sister, won’t have a sibling anymore. Your pet, won’t have an owner anymore. That person you sit next to in class, won’t feel your presence anymore. Your teacher, won’t have a student anymore. That time your grandparents told you no, will haunt them forever, thinking it is their fault, that you are now dead. That time your parents yelled at you, will haunt them forever, thinking if they didn’t yell at you, you would still be here. That time your sibling said they hated you, will hate themselves, because they believe you would still be alive if they said they loved you instead. Those kids who made you feel bad, will wish they were dead too, because if they just smiled at you instead, you would be here. That teacher that said you didn’t meet her expectations, will feel like a failure, because you would still be here, if she believed in you. Everyone, who has ever been in your presence, will hurt, because if they showed you they cared, you would still be here.
Before you decide to take your life, think. Don’t just think of yourself, think of the consequences for everyone else. No one’s life will be the same again. That person who God made specially for you, won’t have you. That happiness that was waiting for you, will never show again. Before you decide to take your life, realize that you may be ending your pain, but you’ll be starting a lifetime of everyone elses.
If you are feeling alone, and think that suicide is the only way out:
My ask is open, and I’m always here. I’ll never judge you. I’ll try to help you.
If you are thinking of taking your life, call:
At first it lookes like an horror story, but then it was different and now I find myself crying
When I was just starting high school, a girl who rode my bus invited me to stay the night at her house and when I did she got really emotional and told me no girls ever stayed over because she was a lesbian and if you don’t think that’s the saddest thing ever you need to re-evaluate your life