"There’s a reason you separate military and the police. One fights the enemies of the state. The other serves and protects the people. When the military becomes both, then the enemies of the state tend to become the people." .. (Commander Adama, Battlestar Galactica)
I don’t give a fuck about people’s opinions. Because when a kid falls in love with an airplane or a bike or a dinosaur—especially if you’re an only child and it’s not because of the book that the sibling was reading—it’s like, fuck, you mean to tell me that the dinosaurs walked the earth and stuff like that?! That’s amazing! You mean to tell me that these giant multi-ton crafts can fly that fast and that loud, and they can flip, and there’s danger, the possibility of them exploding? That’s fucking cool! You mean to tell me that this girl with this fucking body and this face is also into style, and she’s a nice person, and she has her own money and is family-oriented? That’s just as cool as a fucking fighter jet or dinosaur! And just as rarely seen.
I come home to find my mailbox outside my door, helpfully stuffed with mail (by my upstairs neighbor) because my across the way neighbor is warring with my landlord and has told us that the mailbox post is rotted and therefore we have to get rid of our old mailbox and dig our own damn post. Giant spider in the bathroom. Still gotta get rid of that ridiculous “speeding” ticket.
Missing the sanity of California, the niceness of it and yeah that someone I left behind. Wishing I didn’t miss him or that I didn’t want him so badly to want me more so much because I know I’m gonna end up hurt.