You don’t have to justify your existence. You don’t have to make yourself skilled or clever or funny in order to validate your presence in this world. You don’t have to turn your feelings and experiences into art or witticisms for them to matter. You matter just as you are.
But an unquenchable love for you has never left me...
{Quotes: Alejandra Pizarnik, Approximations/Simone de Beauvoir, from Diary of a Philosophy Student: Volume 2, 1928-9; Sunday, October 7/chen chen, nature poem in ‘when i grow up i want to be a list of further possibilities’/sue zhao/ Sylvia path / Maggie Nelson, Bluets/Richard siken/Ingeborg Bachmann, In the Storm of Roses from ‘The Poem for the Reader’, tr. Mark Anderson ,paintings: pinterest}
“I want to rest. I want to breathe quietly again.”
— Tennessee Williams
“whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute new Government”
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-Extract from the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776: in reference to the ‘certain unalienable Rights… Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness’
if you push buttons on a keyboard, letters will appear on the screen. and with that power you can do anything
why are books so expensive all i want is to be lost in another world with haunted old houses and coffee shops and vintage aesthetics and identify with the slightly twisted, mysterious and melancholic characters whose traits i subconsciously adopt lmao
this assignments so hard i can’t even romanticize doing it
the feminine urge to kill
It was desperate magic he tried it / Soaked his deranged heart
Ted Hughes, Capriccio; from 'Systole Diastole'
Only hot people lay on the floor and contemplate their mortality
No one talks about the transition from being the girl everyone respected too much to come forward to and the girl that everyone desires. To feel like you are never someone's first choice, just a woman they would eventually settle for. To never be the girl they passionately, intensely ache for. To be the one they're afraid to taint. The one they will compromise with. To be the girl that becomes the mother of their child, but never their love.
And suddenly, suddenly you're the girl of their desires. The one with a free spirit and reckless behaviors and self-sabotaging actions. The one that hates herself so much, she throttles her own soul to fit an ideal image of what a man yearns for. To be savage and soft, simultaneously. To gaze at a man like a siren and never admit to being hurt.
No one talks about how you slowly feel both of these girls within you amalgamate. So achingly, so abruptly, you feel yourself spiralling out of control. You jump, face first, infront of a moving train, you wrench your heart inside of your chest. You swallow the thought of not being loved. There is a perpetual knock at the base of your mind of someone burning to come out, to be heard, to be felt, to be accepted.
You either become the trophy wife, or the girl they never wed. No one talks about girls like us.
Beware of the barrenness of a busy lifestyle | I write sometimes | 18
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