Request: Queer Love As Something Holy. Being Alienated From Religion And Finding Your Own Way Of Worship.

i hope everything reminds you of me. not as a blessing, as a curse.

I am, as the novelists say, in need of seaside air

and for my next trick i will now demonstrate just how many fucked up things a girl can have wrong with her at once!!

Like my mother

Like my mother

Like my mother

I need to be beautiful like my mother.

She's the most beautiful woman to have ever lived. But no one knows that except me because no one else has the same wounds as her like I do which can carry the entire truth of her existence. No one else has cried when she cried, bled when she bled, died when she died.

No one else has inherited her rage.

No one else has inherited her grief.

No one else has inherited her bloodlust.

Except me

So I need to be beautiful like her too.

I'll paint my lips to hide the crimson stains of spitting my own blood.

I'll darken my eyes to hide the bruises from nights spent with mania instead of rest.

I'll pluck out every imperfection in my brow until it no longer furrows for men who do not deserve it.

I'll put kajal on my waterline so whoever makes me cry has to see me in all my horrifying anger.

I'll powder up my cheeks to hide the tears my father never dried and put lotion on the skin that holds the scars from wounds I was too young to heal.

Like my mother did.

Because I need to be beautiful like my mother.

Even if it leaves me lifeless.

She has been lifeless for most of her life too.

feminine urge to Know Everything and speak 12 languages

― Virginia Woolf, A Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals, 1897-1909

[text ID: I belong to quick, futile moments of intense feeling. Yes, I belong to moments. Not to people.]

"Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not.” (ouch)

The secret history by Donna Tart

If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio

Erica Jong, Sappho's Leap; from 'Talking to Aphrodite'

Having younger siblings who are set on the mindset that I never want them to succeed is exhausting. Why would I want that? I actually wish you success where I failed. I want to give you all the roadmaps marked with all the potholes I fell in so that you don't. I slept with an eye open and the fan off so that I could hear all the sounds and intervene if a fight broke out. You didn't notice. I didn't want you to. My life has been a patchwork of failures that I have woven together as successes. I have never hidden that. You use those failures as an argument when we fight. (It hurts) I took things you didn't like, unknowingly. I have forgotten what I liked, but I know your choices. I am sorry I am harsh on you sometimes. Please I love you, you are family. I don't think I'll love someone that much.

—female rage

? // medusa by caravaggio // gregory radionov // artemisia gentileschi // monstrous flesh: on women’s bodies in horror by rebecca harknis-cross // carrie (1976) // corruption by camille norton // midsommar (2019) // helen of troy does countertop dancing by margaret atwood // medusa in her throne by reza sedhi