Coming of Age at Hippie High


My names Christina.

Ask me anything

coffeestainedheart:

I think they fell in love with that first kiss…

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HIGH SCHOOL

This is how to run a stick of Chapstick
down the black boxes on your scantron
so the grading machine skips the wrong
answers. This is how to honor roll. Hell,
this is how to National Honor Society.
This is being voted “Most Likely to Marry
for Money” or “Talks the Most, Says the
Least” for senior superlatives. This is
stepping around the kids having panic
attacks in the hallway. This is being the
kid having a panic attack in the hallway.
This is making the A with purple moons
stamped under both eyes. We had to try.
This is telling the ACT supervisor you have
ADHD to get extra time. Today, the average
high school student has the same anxiety
levels as the average 1950’s psychiatric
patient. We know the Pythagorean theorem
by heart, but short-circuit when asked
“How are you?” We don’t know. We don’t
know. That wasn’t on the study guide.
We usually know the answer, but rarely
know ourselves.

— HIGH SCHOOL By Blythe Baird (via blythebrooklyn)

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When the blood of your veins returns to the sea and the dust of your bones returns to the ground, maybe then will you remember that this earth does not belong to you, you belong to this earth.
— (via atmosfare)

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funkaah:

indie/grunge blog ☆

funkaah:

indie/grunge blog ☆

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spicybutthole:

look at her face

she on a mission

spicybutthole:

look at her face

image

she on a mission

image

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