artisticfriend

[artisticfriend]

We bond over music on this side.

[artisticfriend]

“…I like simple things, books, being alone, or with somebody who understands.”

— Daphne du Maurier, “The Lover” (via moaka)

[artisticfriend]

[artisticfriend]

& after it all,

i still choose romance

i still choose softness

i still choose gentleness

i still choose love.

[artisticfriend]

[artisticfriend]

1986 Rest Hour at the Cabin

[artisticfriend]

there is so much time left this year i have so much time to be happy and content with my life i need to get it done!

[artisticfriend]

people who only use conventional social media are so funny bc they’ll casually be like “can I see your tumblr??” are you Insane. this is no instagram or twitter. this is my vault of secrets

[artisticfriend]

[artisticfriend]

[artisticfriend]

Closer than ever, 2020

[artisticfriend]

I just want to produce great music and take beautiful photos.

[artisticfriend]

new kind of guy dropped

[artisticfriend]

“The newborn child does not realize that his body is more part of himself than surrounding objects, and will play with his toes without any feeling that they belong to him more than the rattle by his side; and it is only by degrees, through pain, that he understands the fact of the body. And experiences of the same kind are necessary for the individual to become conscious of himself; but here there is the difference that, although everyone becomes equally conscious of his body as a separate and complete organism, everyone does not become equally conscious of himself as a complete and separate personality. The feeling of apartness from others comes to most during puberty, but it is not always developed to such a degree as to make the difference between the individual and his fellows noticeable to the individual. It is such that he, as little conscious of himself as the bee in a hive, who are the lucky in life, for they have the best chance of happiness: their activities are shared by all, and their pleasures are only pleasures because they are enjoyed in common… It is because of them that man has been called a social animal.”

-W. Somerset Maugham

[artisticfriend]

Mirrors are so mere in the reflection of self. Where the questions we ask, the excuses we make, or something as shallow the inflections in our speech house so much of who we are, or at least what we portray. The hasty answers we reply, the (albeit, subconscious) reasons we reconcile, the excitement we announce. When I was younger, this awareness delighted me. Encouraged me even. Still does. "Keep looking." However, along the wonderment, there's a sliver of discomfort, of vastness. Strange thing, and sort of painful.

[artisticfriend]

[artisticfriend]