all this love i have refuses to die inside of me

pinterest / vonko magno on flickr / troye sivan, one of your girls / virginia woolf, a letter to vanessa bell, august 1908 / @hannahlockillustration on tumblr / sara luisa kirk, begin here / fyodor dostoevsky, a letter to anna gregorevna dostoevsky, may 1880 / archbudzar on instagram / jeanette winterson, lighthousekeeping (transcript under the cut) / caitlyn siehl / @wormbus-art on tumblr / jonathan safran foer, extremely loud and incredibly close / lidia yuknavitch, the chronology of water: a memoir / sleepy.corvid on instagram / @froody on tumblr / @borderlinejackiee on tumblr / always together 2, frrrankkky_art on instagram / andsome4747 on tiktok / arthur miller, the crucible / cheryl strayed, tiny beautiful things: advice on love and life from dear sugar

Paralyzed by the need for perfection, I tend to forget that I'm doing this out of love, not greatness. Life is filled with too many short moments to waste most of it trying to chase something unachievable.

I'm thinking of leaving a relationship...it's just not what I want anymore.

Gave it a good college try

Not all fits are made to last

Growing and stretching can happen

Time must have wings, how it flies!

Honor what was real, sacred memories

Say goodbye if it's not too far to reach

Embrace the shared one last time

Then chart your own path once again

Diverging to a single lane road

Windows down, blaring favorite songs

Steer until all becomes clear

Landmarks and guideposts leading where

You're meant to go, alone unless

Joining another fellow traveler

Try to savor the wind in your hair

Finding joy whenever you can

Out on the open unbroken road

A lot of “us” (read: me and my other personalities) have associated the life of aesthetics as shallow and not something you should strive for in life.

Having said that, more recently, I have been drawn more and more to different aesthetics (book reading, masc female outfits, dark academia, french classics, cottage core and what not ) as elements of these ways of living has helped me discover what my passions are and what kind of things my mind is attracted to. They can exist in the same space as me being an eco girly who doesn’t want to contribute to ever increasing demand / consumption of unnecessary material goods. This new found appreciation has pushed me to find creative ways to express all the facets of my dynamism.

Lately, I have had the privilege to come to the realisation that the inherent problem lies not with liking or wanting to live life through the lens of a certain aesthetic, rather making it about just that filter and how you want to be perceived by others through that, and how well you fit into the said aesthetic. It goes downhill when it becomes less about the small things of the persona that sparks joy and focusses heavily on the need to be seen in a certain way.

Ps. Perhaps it’s my late reflection from having read secret history last year -//-

ok so i cut three of my fingers on my dominant hand today. i can type just fine but it kind of gave me a little perspective. slowing down is normal, its fine, and at times is crucial. i personally have new deadlines and gigs, and just overall real world stuff and those things tend to composite subconsciously for me, and i'm sure the same applies to ya'll in someways. this is a simple message to slow down. give yourself the grace to do things just a bit slower. efficiently! but a little slower.

maybe it’s the older sister in me but there’s this pattern i’ve noticed with lonely adolescents and young adults being really good with kids, to the point where kids tend to come up to them? it’s usually like adopting more little siblings, almost as if you’re not intimidating to these kids despite being an adult too. i think it’s just as cute as it is sad because when you were that age, kids ignored you so freely and adults too; and as an adult, you have no idea how to interact with people your age but you know how you wished someone would have listened to you. so you listen to these kids and suddenly, you’re the older sibling to all these kids and you’re still lonely, starving for someone who understands, but you know that you’ve listened to someone else who might have been too.

kids have it really hard, dude.

I yearn, always, to write

but sometimes no words stumble from my clumsy fingers for days at a time and I wonder if the gift has left me

but I have just not found the poems yet

they are hidden, in sunbeams, the touch of a lover, or a song I have yet to hear

I guess what I am trying to say is that to write is to feel, and sometimes I do not wish to feel

but to write is to breathe, and I can only hold my breath so long

by Brie Thomson

tell people whatever you want about me. tell them im ugly and stupid. tell them im evil and a bitch and that i never cared. tell them i light up a room, tell them that you cared about me idc. people only believe what they want to believe

Qui est-on ? Où s'en vont nos anciens "moi" ? Plus j'avance dans le temps, plus je réalise que les versions de moi-même sont presque illimitées. Ce qui crée à chaque fois une nouvelle version, c'est l'expérience. Ça paraît très superflu comme réflexion, et pourtant, comprendre cela, c'est comprendre la vie, dans un sens.

Dire que 2023 m'a appris des choses est un immense euphémisme. En fêtant la nouvelle année il y a plus de onze mois, je n'aurai jamais, JAMAIS imaginé ce qui m'attendait - pour le meilleur et pour le pire. Et la vérité, c'est que même en ayant l'impression d'être complet.e à un moment donné, eh bien on n'en a pas fini d'apprendre des choses sur nous-mêmes et d'évoluer. Ça peut semble décourageant au premier abord, et c'est ce que j'éprouvais à cette pensée au début. Maintenant, je peux le dire, je ressens du soulagement à cette idée, car cela remplit une des grandes joies de ma vie : apprendre. Apprendre sans cesse. Souffrir et patauger, certes, mais découvrir, comprendre et évoluer. C'est ce vers quoi je tends depuis si longtemps. Merci la vie de ne jamais être acquise, malgré les moments de faiblesse ou de désespoir.

Merci la vie de n'être jamais définie. C'est un beau cadeau que de ne jamais savoir ce qui nous attend, dans un sens comme dans l'autre.

To be; Today.

To be reminded that we are beautiful In each scar and insufficiency

To be told that we are all imperfect In each fate and failure

To be expected with no expectation In each part of age of growing up

To be conscious that we are been heard In each word even if it has no meaning

To be the happiest that we are deserve it In each decision, freedom, or goals

To be prepared with no disappointment In every step and stage of present

Today, What if? What now? What else? What should? Today, Who will? Who is? Who would? Who seek? Today, Why you? Why me? Why us? Why they? Today, How long? How could? How far? How much? Today, When is? When we? When to?

Today, Wisdom has faded. Truth is meaningless. Sincerity is scary. Dreaming is loser.

Today, We run, we run, we run We fell, get up, we walk, stumbled Disappointments, unacceptable self-conception.

Today, Haughty, power, control, and deaf Eyes closed, mouth shouting, lost respect

and repeat.

I fell asleep crying

Awaken with a smile

Life doesn't make sense

Emotions running buck wild

Day and night dreams take flight

So many scenes painted

Behind eyes closed or wide

Open to the possibilities

Or maybe fishing for fantasies

Day to day gets lost in a daze

A haze of have-tos and musts

Is it better to have the mettle

Rust or dry out to dust?

Prompted by @rhymingslangsblog:

“right where you left me” by taylor swift hurts me more than many of taylor swift’s other songs because, even though i’ve never felt the pain of a breakup, i’ve felt the pain of seeing myself as someone stuck in the past. i didn’t get frozen at 23 - i’m not even 23 yet -, but i think my mind froze when i was 17, when all my fantasies of growing up happy with caring friends and a caring boyfriend were shattered as i got thrown out of the closet. and it was the most excruciating pain i’ve ever felt in my life, and i never recovered from it, and sometimes i still think about the fantasies of a good life that i had when i was 17 and i think: won’t this bitch ever grow up? and then i realize the bitch is me and i had to do two things at the same time: i had to mature very quickly in order to not let my feelings be shown to the world, at the same time i had to stop every dream of mine from maturing. so i’m mature, but i’m not mature. this confusion hits me every single day, and i know i’d give everything to go back to when i was 17 and do something different just so i would feel better now - but this might never happen, right? i might never move on from the day when i realized the world is not what it looks like, and i don’t think anybody ever moves on when they feel the same realization, and everybody tries and finds other ways to pretend they’ve moved on, to pretend they don’t care about everything they lost when they were younger and felt frozen by the unexpected turnarounds of life. i hate that i can’t move on like everybody pretends they do, but i also hate that i had to move on so fast from what i should’ve lived more and never had the chance to live in a full form.

And some nights I need to tell myself how I don't need to carry the burden of the whole world, or I'm going to crumble under the weight.

i want familiarity. i crave the privilege of getting to stay in someone's life long enough that the thunderstorm in october is a reminder that forever exists. i know permanence doesn't exist, but i dream of belonging. of an eternal summer full of cotton candy sunsets in july while we bike down the streets of a shared childhood. of playlists exchanged back and forth when words are too heavy. of nights spent studying under the table because you were scared of earthquakes and the news said one was on its way. of celebrating good dates with trips to the bookstore to pick out the most recent poetry book from your favorite poet to gift them. of mourning bad days with chai and our legs dangling from the balcony. i dream of things that couldn't possibly exist.

The person you see in the mirror is the hardest person you have to please in this life.

And the only one.