I called you on the phone, standing sockless and sweaty in a stranger’s kitchen, but you didn’t want to talk to me. I told you, the sun sets at 9:40 here. You said, it’s 1 in the morning. I’m trying to go to bed.
You do not have a mouth big enough for all of the words I want to leave in it. I tasted your tongue two weeks ago and have been scraping my teeth since. I tasted the skin below your belly button and still, don’t feel like I deserve to speak your name.
I called you to tell you that we are in different cities and I’m glad. I called because I’m sleeping alone and I feel alright. I called to tell you that I wondered what your face would look like in the pink light. I called because we started out as friends, what happened to that? I hope you’re keeping your bed warm without me in it. Goodnight.
— Whatever I’m Going To Bed | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)
I was never one of those readers who wanted to be in Gryffindor. It’s a great house full of great people, but it wasn’t for me (plus red and gold would make me look brash). As soon as the first book introduced Slytherin, though, and all of its supposed badness, I knew that if I were to ever be sorted, it’d be my home. Don’t know how I knew it or what I was basing it off of, but I felt it in my bones instantly and carried it around with me for a long time. And the more I learned about the house and its traits, the more positive I became I belonged there. I was competitive, extremely resourceful, protective of my own, and kind of a brat-all things you’d associate with Slytherin.
Flash forward a few years. I was 18 and the internet was fast becoming a prominent part of nearly everyone’s lives, and with that came tons of fanmade sorting quizzes. And I. took. them. all. And every single solitary one agreed with me-I was made for the green and silver life. I took their results as justification of my strong suspicions and being a Slytherin became a legitimate part of my identity. It was no longer just something I felt but kept in the back of my mind; I was now very outwardly proud of my house, and defended it like I would an old friend whose reputation wasn’t so great.
Then Pottermore was announced in 2011. I was one of the lucky people who got in early as a beta tester, and one of the cooler parts of the website is a sorting test created in part by JK Rowling herself. After years of being sorted by peers, we were finally handed something official, something as good as the Sorting Hat itself. And I was extremely nervous. What if I found out I’d been wrong for 10 years and was sorted into another house? What if I was actually a Gryffindor? I hadn’t even taken the test yet and I was already devastated by the idea. It didn’t help that I was watching a lot of friends’ hearts shatter when they were sorted into a house they didn’t want, so when it was my turn, when I finally got to chapter 7, “The Sorting Hat”, I genuinely felt like I was going to throw up. I watched as JK Rowling stared into my soul and pretty much told me “This is it, this is what you’ve waited for for a good decade now. You’re about to be sorted for real. Good luck!” Good luck indeed. With my heart in my throat, I went through each question and answered them all honestly, and then waited to be disappointed.
But the disappointment never came.
I was ecstatic. I cried a little bit, I called my mom and yelled at her, I probably said “I KNEW IT” like 500 times. It was such a big deal to me to have that confirmation, because I’ve never been so sure of something in my whole life as I was that I am a Slytherin, and I couldn’t believe I ever gave doubt any room. But it’s okay, because I never will again. I know who I am and I know where I belong, and this is it. This is home.
And I love my home.
Human: “HAHAHA Animals are so dumb!”
*goes to war with its own species, uses up all of its resources, destroys its own environment, pollutes its own air and water*
Animal: *licks its own asshole*
human: *licks someone else’s asshole and calls it sex*