me: stop being racist please
family: listen… liberal hippie trash ….u dont know anything abotu the world….
The walls of the house aren’t real.
You hold the roof aloft on your shoulders,
And my house and home
Is not rooted to the ground.
Its not rooted in tradition, nor in the hearts and whispers of old men.
My house isn’t wooden nor made of stone,
Flesh, skin, and bone.
Junot Diaz (via lovely—delight)
i thought my artist friends would appreciate this omfg