art isnt mine the words are <3

She’s so real for this

This is for the rotten girls. The girls who think that there is something inherently evil and sinister inside of them. The girls who are fundamentally flawed. The girls who can’t recognise their own reflection in the bathroom mirror at times, and when they do, are repulsed by it. The girls who have something crawling beneath their skin and can feel it when they try to fall asleep. The girls who need to see their own blood from time to time to be reminded that they are human. The girls who always loved ghost stories, because they too feel like a house with unknown corridors and rooms with shut doors that they are too afraid to enter. The girls who get told they say sorry a lot and always answer “I feel sorry a lot”. The girls who feel like they were born inside out. The girls who think there is something from a past life still haunting them. The girls with mothers that tell them they make them nervous. The girls who find peace deep inside the woods or abandoned buildings. The girls who painted pictures in school that scared the others kids. The girls who think it’s in their DNA.

a vote for the gentle light, charles bukowski

burned senseless by other people’s constant depression, I pull the curtains apart, aching for the gentle light. it’s there, it’s there somewhere, I’m sure.

oh, the faces of depression, expressions pulled down into the gluey dark. the bitter small sour mouths, the self-pity, the self-justification is too much, all too much. the faces in shadow, deep creases of gloom.

there’s no courage there, just the desire to possess something––admiration, fame, lovers, money, any damn thing so long as it comes easy. so long as they don’t have to do what’s necessary. and when they don’t succeed they become embittered, ugly, they imagine that they have been slighted, cheated, demeaned.

then they concentrate upon their unhappiness, their last refuge. and they’re good at that, they are very good at that. they have so much unhappiness they insist upon your sharing it too.

they bathe and splash in their unhappiness, they splash it upon you.

it’s all they have. it’s all they want. it’s all they can be.

you must refuse to join them. you must remain yourself. you must open the curtains or the blinds or the windows to the gentle light. to joy. it’s there in life and even in death it can be there.

maggie nelson- bluets

maggie nelson bluets

i love talking to people in real life and being like “oh yeah i have instagram but i don’t really use it… i don’t have facebook or tiktok or anything like that either… idk i just don’t want to waste my life on social media, i prefer to live in the moment” and then i go home and spend 12 hours a day on tumblr

being depressed and delusional out of your mind and calling it the female experience

"The world has never known a loneliness as deep as my aching heart."

the-moon-holds-me

(Painting: "The Grove", Aron Wiesenfeld)

Excuses For Why We Failed At Love by Warsan Shire

Rebecca Solnit, The Faraway Nearby

“You and I, we are like moon and stars, most of the world perceives us as we're one but in reality we're a million miles apart.”

— Jay Vespertine (@letsbelonelytogetherr)

Y'all follow me after one good post and then you get stuck with nonsense

no such thing as wasting your 20s your 20s are for recovering from whatever the fuck happened to you as a kid so that youre ready to get weird with it in your 30s