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Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband: A Fictional Essay in 29 Tangos

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i’m not sleepy in a cute way but in a chronic depression and insomnia way 

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Smith College Girls for i-D magazine 2004

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I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now. Movies and books don't tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you're left with memories of what once was. We were friends for a decade and knew each other's diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in '07.

Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?

It's been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

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“I seemed always on the verge of some wonderful experience; And then it never happened.”

— T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party

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I want to be this picture

https://www.instagram.com/persephonevint/p/CXHmirRPySY/?utm_medium=copy_link

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“I’m in love with everyone I’ve ever met in one way or another. I’m just a crazy, unhinged disaster of a human being.”

— Edie Sedgwick (via strangeorchid)

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carrie/ live through this, hole / courtney love / black swan / brand new city, mitski / i, tonya

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Obviously there are many things to dislike about adulthood but as someone who grew up in an abusive household for whom adulthood offered the only chance at an escape, it's incredibly important to me that i romanticize adulthood whenever possible because i know there are kids and teenagers like me out there who are seeing nothing but complaints about rent and taxes and the loneliness of living on your own and i know they're going to internalize all of that and assume it means that adulthood won't offer them the freedom and safety they've been dreaming of. So while i never want to minimize the difficulties of being an adult, i also want to highlight how incredibly nice it can be to finally have ownership of your life and your body and your time and money and food and everything else in a way that you never had before. You can choose when you wake up! You can choose what you have for breakfast! You can choose when to go to sleep or if you want to (inadvisably) stay up all night watching tv in the living room! In the living room! You can choose what to watch! These are little things, but they are worth taking pleasure in, and they are worth looking forward to.

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i learned about Tim Wong who successfully and singlehandedly repopulated the rare California Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly in San Francisco. In the past few years, he’s cultivated more than 200 pipevine plants (their only food source) and gives thousands of caterpillars to his local Botanical Garden (x)

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by Ranurte

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Adults dating adults is not a problem. Like I'm 22 and if I wanna date a 50yo that's my prerogative

you'll turn 30 someday, and then feel grossed out by the concept of dating even a 22 year old, realizing how huge the chasm is between those life stages. and then you'll think of it again in a few years, and again. the more time goes by, the more you feel like college-aged kids really do seem like "kids". and then you'll be 44, and the idea of men your age dating girls as young as 20 will make you nauseous, because they'll mostly look like kids to you. in appearance, but even moreso in behavior. middle-aged men (particularly famous men) consistently dating women as young as possible without being illegal is not a situation of "adults dating adults", it's a pattern in a pedophilic society that says that 18 year old girls are the hottest and most desireable, women are old when they turn 26, and it's "totally normal" for men to lust after girls who are young enough to be their biological children please re-prioritize why you felt the need to justify a celebrity's pattern of dating women who are barely even old enough to drink, to me, a person who is not your friend.

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I wish I had this feeling

“I didn’t know what to call it, what was happening between us, but I liked it. It felt silly and fragile and good.”

— Ransom Riggs; Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

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Let me preface this with a brief description of how absolutely and irrevocably fucked up things are.

I am on drugs and my life is in shambles.

He is at work, and I am trapped in a bed that used to be ours but isn’t anymore.

I am a one-person occupy Love Street movement with no audience.

My ass is glued to this bed.

It smells like him.

I see the permanent impression of a living ghost.

I am not OK.

In the next room, his sister is having a one-sided, tragically sweet conversation with her six-month-old.

I’m not exactly sure why, but her tone makes this significantly worse for me.

It’s like her cooing just represents what love sounds like—a sound I won’t hear anymore.

There are backpacks, paper bags, suitcases, and the same scented trash bags I once struggled to carry down the stairs.

The plastic is stretched over the faint patterns of everything I wore in my life here.

Everything that I carefully folded to avoid wrinkles is now stuffed into small plastic sacks.

This is my fault.

Good people do not have minds like mine.

I am a toxic enigma; I am lit dynamite.

Destined to disappear; I do it wrong.

I wish that I could fix it, could surgically remove it, could pour myself through a sifter that catches only the bad parts.

What would be left?