When something tragic happens, tumblr is the only social platform you can escape to. The whole world could be in shambles and y’all are shitposting and reblogging pictures of tiramisu as usual.
I miss being 7 and designing a Valentine’s Day shoebox and buying 25 little paper valentines with whatever I loved on them and writing them to each of my classmates and adding a little piece of candy to each valentine and dropping them in all my classmate’s boxes and then opening my own box at the end of the day to discover 25 little valentines from the rest of my class showing what they all loved…. Oh to be a 7-year-old on February 14th
“Inappropriate student-teacher relationship” doesn’t always mean something sexual. My high school art teacher’s drug dealer was one of her own students, and you better believe he got straight As in that class - like, what are you going to do, give your weed man a B- because he doesn’t understand pointilism?
My favourite thing about this post is people getting offended that the sixteen-year-old drug dealer doesn’t understand pointilism.
