Sylvia Plath

The Terror // White Winter Hymnal

sorry i never replied. everyday is blending together and im losing sense of time

a few lieutenants....... 2025

i love you visible brushstrokes. i love you glue warped scrapbook pages. i love you awkward poems. i love you junk journal with faded receipts. i love you poorly composed journal layout. I love you unintentionally blurry photographs. i love you asymmetrical beading. i love you curling freeform crochet. i love you fingerprints on pottery. i love you reused materials. i love you improvised instruments. i love you mistakes. i love you bravery to make it anyway. i love you creativity that hasn't been wiped clean of every drop of humanity and sanitized and commodified.

Before and after the Winter Journey, 1911

So many idiots have masters degrees maybe I could be the next

there's no place like home

"I wanted my grief, but instead I was left with a horrible nothingness, and I got really scared. But then I realized fear was a thing I could feel, and I clung to it. I was afraid of my loneliness. I was afraid I would never have anyone to love again. I blamed you for it. For leaving. Fear and anger. The anger helped me wake up in the monrings and eat and clean the house and wash myself. The anger even distracted me long enough that I would forget my loneliness, and sometimes, in short bursts, I even felt cheerful."

― Gerardo Sámano Córdova, Monstrilio

anywhere can be the trenches with the right mindset

congratulations lil buddy that's the worst anyone's ever drawn it

[source: roald amundsen's belgica diary]