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having short-term memory is like. this book profoundly affected me. that show bared my soul. i don’t remember a single thing about it. but it did

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Bianca Stone, from What Is Otherwise Infinite: Poems; “Artichokes”

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― Ivan Turgenev, Fathers and Sons (translated by George Reavy)

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all this love was once anger

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to stop being absent in my own life

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love is pain

born to love forced to grieve

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Ruth Awad, "The Mounts"

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jihyun yun some are always hungry: "reversal" (via @feral-ballad) \\ x \\ louise glück averno: "persephone the wanderer" \\ charles bukowski come on in!: "hurry slowly" (via @tamsoj) \\ jihyun yun some are always hungry: "reversal" (via @feral-ballad) \\ julie myerson sleepwalking

kofi

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- on grieving our past selves

doc luben “love letters or suicide notes”/ louise glück/ liv ullmann/ funeral-phoebe bridgers/ @mjalti/ would’ve, could’ve, should’ve- taylor swift/ @fairycosmos/ rob bresney/ @sea--shore/ class of 2013- mitski

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as I’ve got older I’ve realised the literal worst or most life destroying thing can happen and then u wake up the next day and it’s like. Ok now what

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girl are you okay? you’ve been consuming so much media lately that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel one single human emotion for months

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as a girl who is literally just a girl i am always yearning. always longing always missing always wearing my heart on my sleeve. always feeling like my heart is on the verge of exploding. the sight of the sun makes me cry. anyway

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this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass

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the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

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here’s to a liberated palestine and an end to the occupation in 2024، إن شاء الله

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Mahmoud Darwish, tr. by Catherine Cobham, from “Perfection is the same as imperfection”, A River Dies of Thirst