🍩

Hollowed out.

[scorpionlafemme]

[beibeibeibay]

There's this guy in my mind. Sometimes I love him and would like to write poems about him. Sometimes I hate him for lingering in my mind and not in reality. Sometimes I could remember his face. Sometimes his face is a blur. Sometimes I reconstruct him in my mind. Sometimes I convince myself to stop thinking about him. Sometimes he is a source of motivation. Sometimes I hide from him when I saw him from afar. Sometimes I like the 'him' I created in my mind more than the real him. Sometimes I wish I could catch a glimpse of him. Sometimes I wish I would never see him again to spare me the pain of unrequited love. Sometimes I regret noticing him. Sometimes I wish I'm a guy so I could be his friend. Sometimes I wish to dream of him at night. Sometimes I wish he likes me. Sometimes I fear he likes me. Sometimes I think this yearning is stupid. Sometimes I could not control myself. Sometimes I imagine he's in my life. Sometimes I could not imagine myself being completely seen.

All the time, I'm tired. Really tired of my one-woman show.

[metamorphesque]

The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

[philosophybits]

“I feel myself to be an alien in the world. If you have no ties to either mankind or to God, then you are an alien.”

— Ludwig Wittgenstein, Nachlass, MS 135 (28 July 1947)

[godkissedme]

i think i deserve financial compensation for everything. all of it. i’m not even gonna specify

[aloyhh]

I’m so grateful that so many things are none of my business

[dvnyaaa]

i can’t believe that im still hoping and hoping and hoping and

[wovi]

*

khalil gibran, sand and foam

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: my fist has always been clenched around the handle of an invisible suitcase. / i am always ready to leave. / there is not a single room in this world where i belong.]

[weltenwellen]

Danez Smith, Don't Call Us Dead

[petaltexturedskies]

Dulce Maria Loynaz, from "Poem XCV" in Absolute Solitude: Selected Prose Poems

[petaltexturedskies]

In films, we are voyeurs, but in novels, we have the experience of being someone else: knowing another person’s soul from the inside. No other art form does that. And this is why sometimes, when we put down a book, we find ourselves slightly altered as human beings. Novels change us from within.

Donna Tartt

[feral-ballad]

Victoria Chang, from With My Back to the World: Poems; “The Islands, 1961”

[ryebreadgf]

From How to Be Perfect by Ron Padgett

[thoughtkick]

“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place because you’ll never be this way ever again.”

— Azar Nafisi; Reading Lolita in Tehran

[quotespile]

“Divorce: such a spiteful-sounding word – but such an appealing concept. Marriage: such a softly seductive word – but such a spiteful reality.”

— Bernardine Evaristo, Mr Loverman

[hairtusk]

Martin Amis, from Money (1984)