anfiska
An
Nothing happens in decades then decades happen in weeks
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happy "everyone forgets that icarus also flew" monday. i want to throw up !
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“source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams
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Huge fan of when my speech patterns rub off on people enjoy when thay happens
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a girl of fear, a woman of anger— look how we've grown
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Vladimir Mayakovsky, from a letter featured in "Love in the Heart of Everything; The Correspondence between Vladimir Mayakovsky & Lili Brik, 1915-1930,"
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hey man can i come over and be sickly in the corner of your living room
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discipline is self care
self care isn't just face masks and bubble baths, it's also doing your assignment in advance so you won't pull an all nighter before the deadline, cooking at home instead of ordering out; discipline is an act of self love and care
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defending alicent hightower on the internet is the sixth pillar of feminism
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The first rule of tragedy is to be yourself. The second of rule of tragedy is to be literally anyone else. The third rule is that however much you try, there is no escaping being yourself forever.
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suffering from a condition called remembering too much and loving too much and caring too much and
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not to sound like a medieval peasant or a catholic but i resent anti-carb propaganda so much like bread will never be evil it is holy it is divine it is one of life’s most simple yet decadent pleasures. love is stored in the bread
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“We need more complex female characters” Y’all could barley handle her
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I really like the word “smitten”. because at first glance you just think of sappy lovey-dovey stuff but also you have to remember this is a word that’s born of the word “smite.” a devastating word. a word that, summarized, means stricken. smitten means stricken as well — struck with devastating affection.
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no matter how devastatingly sad and tragic her life gets, her hair is always going to serve
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Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source, it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illnesses and wounds, it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of natural death. Every lover could be brought to trial as the murderer of his own love. When something hurts you, saddens you, I rush to avoid it, to alter it, to feel as you do, but you turn away with a gesture of impatience and say: “I don’t understand.”
Anaïs Nin, from The Four Chambered Heart
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i’m such a “i want your attention” but “won’t bother you” kinda person
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