grace

lionelfusco:

“Mir Seddique, Mateen’s father told NBC News, “this has nothing to do with religion.” Seddique said his son got angry when he saw two men kissing in Miami a couple of months ago and thinks that may be related to the shooting.

“We are saying we are apologizing for the whole incident. We weren’t aware of any action he is taking. We are in shock like the whole country,” Seddique said.”

the shooter’s father has literally stated that it was a hate crime. this was violence against lgbt peopel for being lgbt. this isnt about religion and this isnt about neurodivergence so please dont you fucking dare throw muslim and mentally ill people under the bus in the name of the victims of the attack

my heart goes out to the muslim members of the lgbt community, especially my close friends who i know must be shit scared right now and dont deserve any of the islamobigoted hate coming at them

ribboneesta:

some feelings

• entering a warm room after being out in the cold
• the “boom” in your heart when you hear a firework explode
• having someone brush your hair
• the buzz of your fingers opening a package you had been waiting for
• writing with a new pen
• the funny feeling in your stomach when you see the sun outside your window and realize you’ve stayed up all night

inkskinned:

the thing is, somebody cares. i know your best friend seems really busy all the time and is shit at texting but she still loves you and she talks to you more than she talks to anyone else and you’re the only breath of calm she has on this planet. the boy in your science class loves seeing what music you’re listening to on your headphones - he has the same taste and wishes he had the nerve to ask you about it. your english teacher loves the insight you have on your papers. somebody cares. the person who lives down the street from you notices when you are sick because they don’t see you stomping your way to the schoolbus - it’s how they know it’s time to get their breakfast ready. somebody is looking for you at the party, even if they don’t know they’re really looking for you - but when you don’t show up, some part of them is disappointed. somebody is looking for you in the library, in the spot where you eat lunch, in front of that one step you always seem to trip on. i know your parents are a complicated mess and there’s drama between your friends and your love life is sort of shaped like a constant question and everybody seems all caught up in their own lives and their own happiness and nobody really notices: but somebody always does. every face in your dreams is someone you have met, and that means that you are in a million’s stranger’s heads. they see you when they go to bed. and somebody cares. somebody still thinks about you even though you were just a person with a nice outfit or good eyeliner or a great smile or because you were having one of those moments that are so charmingly human in nature or because they regret not asking if you needed help when you fell or because they wonder what you were thinking about or drawing or writing or just because you’re alive, and that makes you fascinating. somebody cares. when you were on break from work and saw a dog hanging his head out of the car and suddenly broke into a smile: there was a girl in the back of that car, and I was her, and I still think about you, and i hope you get more chances to smile like that. and there is you, sitting here reading this, and by some small extension, meeting me, and i am telling you, I care. somebody always does. i promise. i promise. you are loved.