i’m just like the hole in your chest filled with existential dread but i’m a girl
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Grief is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.
- Jamie Anderson
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when will i get bitten by a vampire like i deserve
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hello
i have been wanting to do this for a long time, but i guess i will do it now. i'm moving blogs. i will follow my mutuals and people i follow from there too, please do not be pressurized to follow me back. it's all cool, no worries. although i will be online here, but that is only for a few days/weeks. please do not follow here anymore. thank you.
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hello
i have been wanting to do this for a long time, but i guess i will do it now. i'm moving blogs. i will follow my mutuals and people i follow from there too, please do not be pressurized to follow me back. it's all cool, no worries. although i will be online here, but that is only for a few days/weeks. please do not follow here anymore. thank you.
34 notes
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View notes
hello
i have been wanting to do this for a long time, but i guess i will do it now. i'm moving blogs. i will follow my mutuals and people i follow from there too, please do not be pressurized to follow me back. it's all cool, no worries. although i will be online here, but that is only for a few days/weeks. please do not follow here anymore. thank you.
34 notes
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View notes
hello
i have been wanting to do this for a long time, but i guess i will do it now. i'm moving blogs. i will follow my mutuals and people i follow from there too, please do not be pressurized to follow me back. it's all cool, no worries. although i will be online here, but that is only for a few days/weeks. please do not follow here anymore. thank you.
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my heart goes out to anyone who was made to feel stupid for caring too much. anyone who was laughed at or "cringed" at for being themselves. anyone who cried silently so they don't be a burden. anyone whose love was taken for granted. anyone who feels unsafe in their own bodies. to anyone who felt devastated because others failed to be humane enough. it's not you, it's them. i hope you find a way to love yourself again. you're not alone. you're important.
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i’m like touch starved but for a river
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The ladybug that landed
on your nose once
in fourth grade
and sat there for a minute, right at the tip,
is okay. The tic you do
with your nostrils sometimes
(when you flare them when you’re nervous)
is okay. The fact that you skipped the party,
lied to your friends, and drank cup
after cup of tea alone in your bed
is okay. It’s okay
that you never responded to Gregory’s email.
Gregory is taking a shower right now.
You are nowhere near the mind of Gregory.
The evidence against you
is not damning. Even the little white
pills can be forgiven — they knew not
what they were doing.
But you, you know.
You get to watch your hands choose.
The ladybug thanks you for not crushing it;
the way this world gives thanks
is to fly away, into a tree
with thick foliage, out of sight,
where it dies and is born and dies and is born
on a continual loop —
— Mikko Harvey, from “Immunity”
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it’s incredible how i haven’t gotten over all the poems that i love whenever i reread them, even the ones that i’ve forgotten. & then i read more poems & i get more poems to love. it’s like garcia-marquez was right when he said “there is always something left to love” but i’m saying poetry-wise
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There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. x
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Marcel Proust, from The Complete Short Stories; “Pleasures and Regrets,”
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