UglyBeauty

[litsnaps]

[luminote]

[the-healing-mindset]

Some people desire the comforts and conveniences of a connection or relationship without having the awareness needed to understand that there are expectations that come with maintaining a connection of that sort.

You do not have to hold yourself committed to someone who refuses to put in the work on themselves or who refuses to meet you where you stand, but continues to tell you that they "love" you and that you're a good person for them.

You deserve someone who is a good person for you too. You're not a charity. You don't have to give and give while getting nothing from them in return as far as having your connection needs met. If you can't grow with them, then they have to go.

[equinoxn-deactivated20260325]

Rest in peace is reserved for the dead, but at some point it felt correct for me too. I wished to be allowed sleep. To hear - your fight is over.

[deficyt-uczuc-deactivated202105]

[achillesinhighheels]

[iamheavymeta-lll]

[oldwinesoul]

[emotionalwords]

[thepersonalquotes]

[rixwilson]

A heavily lip-sticked grave

The final resting place of author Oscar Wilde, ridden with kisses, is not the only famous grave in the Parisian Père Lachaise Cemetery. Singers Jim Morrison and Serge Gainsbourg also attract a wealth of fans and mourners who leave blessings at their gravesides, normally in the form of lighters and/or cigarettes.

[beafraidofnothing]

“Here’s this man who believed when he died that his name would be toxic for generations to come. For hundreds of years his works wouldn’t be read. He would stand for nothing but perversion. Utter disgust of a society that couldn’t bear people like him… His tomb in Père Lachaise Cemetery, in Paris had to be restored because the polished stone of its surface had corroded through kisses. Wouldn’t it just be allowed once to just wake him up for five minutes just to tell him that, then he can go back to sleep again?“ 

 - Stephen Fry, Jaipur Literature Festival on Wilde, January 2016

[rainbowhyperfixation]

So like the Doctor Who episode with Van Gogh, but like waaaaay more queer.

Jack Harkness would definitely make an appearance.

[the-haiku-bot]

So like the Doctor

Who episode with Van Gogh,

but like waaaaay more queer.

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

[books-n-pickles]

Alas, when I visited in 2015, the tomb had been cleaned and a glass wall put up to keep visitors from getting close. Still some lipstick on the glass, but not quite the same.

[pinkcove]

Basil Hallward

[ritikajyala]

I ask him what his biggest fear is and he tells me he worries he won’t grow up to be like his father. I ask him another big fear and he tells me he dreads that he will grow up to be his father. Our fathers house more than the crevices of our DNA, always a shadow looming. And the fears flow, a constant oscillation, pendulum of beliefs- I wish I was like you, I wish I become nothing like you. And in the middle, a child suspended, a child frightened.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

[thepersonalquotes]

[mattsmemes]

[femconstellation]

its kinda insane to me how trans people have essentially taken over the narrative for minorities in america to the point that you can’t even be protesting for palestine or the trump administration’s racist anti-immigration laws without someone holding up a ‘trans rights are human rights’ sign because they cannot conceptualize other groups getting the attention they desperately need. they believe themselves to be in an active genocide, and by that they mean lesbians and gay men dont want to fuck them and researchers are finding a multitude of side effects with their hormone therapy. the continuous fight against homophobia is even put aside like its crazy

[likeaswansong]

[stfuandreaa-archived-deactivate]

I don't recognize the girl in the mirror.

I once remember looking at a girl, skin soft to the touch, heart so fragile. She had orchids for her eyes and smiled as if no one was looking. She danced in the rain and sang to the rays. She rambled with no care in the world. She would laugh and smile and show kindness and love. I do also remember her, though. She was weak and grey; the sky had taken away the colors from her mouth and the shine from her eyes. She could barely form words with tear-strained cheeks and harmed wrists. She was always on the edge of everything, and when focused, you could see her soul raw in her eyes. She felt vulnerable and relatable.

Well, I still search for the old girl whenever I look in the mirror, but I have a feeling that it's going to take a lot of work and care and love to make her come back and show herself. The worst part is that I don't remember how I lost her.

So till she comes back, I'll learn how to love the one I see now. Maybe she deserves it more than her.

~stfuanna