the sexual tension when u and ur crush are online on fb at the same time and u just stare at their lil green dot
and suddenly you know what gatsby felt like
This is actually the most profound and appropriate literary allusion I’ve encountered so far this week.
There have been far too many times that I’ve identified all too well with Esther Greenwood, but never more than today. Except instead of having to choose one fig and lose all the others, all of them are just out of reach. It’s true that I may be able to only have one or two figs at best, and I’m okay with that, but the figs are so high up and every time I try to reach for them, the branches they’re on turn out to be much longer than I thought they were, and it feels completely hopeless and like I’ll never reach any of them, so I convince myself that I’ll never be able to get any of them and just curl at the bottom of the tree and sit there forever and watch the figs curl up and die.
