I Get A Genuine Stomach Ache When I Remember I Never Have And Never Will Be Even Alive At The Same Time

Can you give some recs similar to a little life? Tysm ♥

This is a unique type of masochism, of which I personally am guilty.

The Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante

Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart

The Gunners by Rebecca Kauffman

The Death of Vivek Oji by Akwaeke Emezi

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

Tin Man by Sarah Winman

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (you saw this one coming, didn't you?)

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne

“I’d like to be in love with somebody. Pretty much the same thing that everybody else wants - to be totally alive and not be deadened down by the way things are… I don’t know if I really have any other goals.”

Elliott Smith

Pinterest is giving me a lot of Gerard’s as of recent

When Fiona Apple sang, “How can I ask anyone to love me, when all I do is beg to be left alone,” and when Mitski sang, “you’re growing tired of me, and all the things I don’t talk about,” and when Julien Baker sang, “it’s not easy when what you think of me is important, and I know it shouldn’t be so damn important, but it is to me,” and when Elliott Smith sang, “I’m alone but that’s okay, I don’t mind most of the time; I don’t feel afraid to die,” and when the Front Bottoms sang, “sometimes you get sad when we’re together because you’re not sure if you’ll miss me when I’m gone,” and when

sometimes he wakes so far from himself that he can’t even remember who he is. “where am i?” he asks, desperate, and then, “who am I? who am I?”

and then he hears, so close to his ear that it is as if the voice is originating inside his own head, willem’s whispered incantation. “you’re jude st. francis. you are my oldest, dearest friend. you’re the son of harold stein and julia altman. you’re the friend of malcolm irvine, of jean-baptiste marion, of richard goldfarb, of andy contractor, of lucien voigt, of citizen van straaten, of rhodes arrowsmith, of elijah kozma, of phaedra de los santos, of the henry youngs. you’re a new yorker. you live in soho. you volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen. you’re a swimmer. you’re a baker. you’re a cook. you’re a reader. you have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. you’re an excellent pianist. you’re an art collector. you write me lovely messages when i’m away. you’re patient. you’re generous. you’re the best listener i know. you’re the smartest person i know, in every way. you’re the bravest person i know, in every way. you’re a lawyer. you’re the chair of the litigation department at rosen pritchard and klein. you love your job; you work hard at it. you’re a mathematician. you’re a logician. you’ve tried to teach me, again and again. you were treated horribly. you came out on the other end. you were always you.”

“and who are you?”

“i’m willem ragnarsson. and i will never let you go.”

I am, in fact, going to now go about my life and continue to try to be a person that Jude St Francis could have loved and been loved by in return

Frances Bean Cobain on the 30th anniversary of her father, Kurt’s, death.

priest gerard >>>>>>

i’m NEVER getting over this :0

there's a difference between father and dad. one is a title, the other is a bond.

IS THAT