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― Virginia Woolf, A Writer's Diary
[ text ID: Yes, I deserve a spring–I owe nobody nothing. ]
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"I sit with my grief. I mother it. I hold its small, hot hand. I don’t say, shhh. I don’t say, it is okay. I wait until it is done having feelings. Then we stand and we go wash the dishes. We crack open bedroom doors, step over the creaks, and kiss the children. We are sore from this grief, like we’ve returned from a run, like we are training for a marathon. I’m with you all the way, says my grief, whispering, and then we splash our face with water and stretch, one big shadow and one small."
– Callista Buchen
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One day you think: I want to die. And then you think, very quietly, actually I want a coffee. I want a nap. A sandwich. A book. And I want to die turns day by day into I want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friends, I want to sit in the sun. I want a cleaner room, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else, I want to live.
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@roach-works // Melissa Broder, "Problem Area" // Mary Oliver, "The Return" // @annavonsyfert // Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer // Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance // David Levithan, How They Met and Other Stories // Tennessee Williams, Notebooks
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Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter featured in "Letters of Fyodor Michailovitch Dostoevsky to his Family & Friends,"
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“Pour water over each wound. What about the wound inside me, the wound I was born into? Where do I pour when I am the wound? I am what wounds me.”
— Sanna Wani, from “Princess Mononoke (1997)”, My Grief, the Sun
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"what do you do for a living?" Oh I am a professional hopeless romantic and I read books and cry in my free time.
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"i'm fine" *disappears in the fog and is never found again*
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" oh yes, i'm a writer " *doesnt write anything for 6 months*
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I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.
-Sylvia Plath
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Wincenty Wodzinowski (Polish, 1866 - 1940) - A man reading a letter
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forever rooting for sensitive girls!!!!!! you have big hearts and a poet’s soul i love you
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dostoyevsky kinda ate with “your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
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