AgentJ

22|Queensland,Australia|♓

[thepersonalwords]

“Part of me is afraid to get close to people because I’m afraid that they’re going to leave.”

— Marilyn Manson

[wedarkacademia]

“Grief, I’ve learned, 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

[thepersonalwords]

“Part of me is afraid to get close to people because I’m afraid that they’re going to leave.”

— Marilyn Manson

[missinyouiskillingme]

I hope they ask about me & I hope you tell them you fucked up.

[meanwhilepoetry]

Have you ever felt like you are the quiet ghost everyone can see but chooses to look through. Like your body is there, just transparent, you speak but no one hears you, not really. The act of disappearing is not so hard truly. You can do it even in a room surrounded by people who claim they love you. Just pretend you aren’t there, and everyone around you will pretend you have vanished too.

- Nikita Gill

[edwardian-masquerade]

"Prehaps they were right putting love into books. Perhaps it could not live elsewhere."

-Willam Faulkner

[metamorphesque]

“I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise.”

— Anaïs Nin, The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4: 1944-1947

[flowerytale]

Natalie Díaz, from “American Arithmetic”, Postcolonial Love Poem (2020)

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Even the gaps between sunlight makes me miss the person I love

@silenziobruno

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Sometimes we also love people because they forgive us for something completely unforgivable not because they know you are guilty but because they understand you are a human too and we make mistakes the imperfections we carry makes us the person we are and being loved regardless of everything is truest form of intimacy

[metamorphesque]

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

[sanddollarpoems]

How do you make it work

When nothing seems to make sense

When looking ahead just reminds you

That hope isn't big enough

How do you make it make sense

When silence is far more familiar

And your happy ending is lacking

The happiness to feel complete

How do you keep caring

How do you keep hoping

How do you keep from crumbling

Under the pressure of broken dreams

[pineconeontheforestsfloor]

I've always been like this. I search for love in all the wrong places. My knees have become callous due to the time spent begging. Trenches embellish my face, from all the rivers I have wept - still, I don't learn. My body will keep on being stained by the mud I crawl in, in hopes of feeling appealing. Because I search for love in all the wrong places. Because I just need to feel enough... My dear, I wish I could be to you, just a third of what you are to me.

[hwhwgwhnwnwbwbwg-deactivated202]

“They call you heartless; but you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus spoke Zarathustra

“I’m quite chocked with tenderness for you, my love , it makes me a bit pathetic to love you so much.”

-Simone de Beauvoir, letters to Sartre

[metamorphesque]

“I knew when I said I love you that I was inventing a new alphabet for a city where no one could read”

— Nizar Qabbani, Between Us

[lone-nyctophile]

Aren't we all waiting to be read by someone, praying that they'll tell us that we make sense?

- Ruby Francisco

[perfectfeelings]

“You can never really go back to the same waters. Not only are you no longer the same, but neither are the waters you left. The current has changed. The elements of nature have affected the stream. When you return, although it appears the same, it really is a different river and you are a different person. Therefore, you cannot cross the same river twice.”

— Alice Walker

[ruhlare]