Beloved

where the spirit meets the bone

[just-shower-thoughts]

I love being around people and I love being alone. If I spend too much time doing either, I start to lose my mind.

[diary-of-alice]

pro-tip: your blog is about you. be self-indulgent, self-absorbed, and self-possessed. go all in on your obsessions. this is a work of self-expression, a living monument to your heart.

[expressions-of-nature]

by Lena Polishko

[8rujaa]

in the springtime i feel little flowers grow in my heart too

[adorerose]

I just want to be surrounded by so much love in my life. And not just relationships. Love for my job, my home, the stars, the sunsets, the place I live where ever in the world that is. I want to experience love in all forms

[weltenwellen]

Ellen Bass, “The Thing Is”, Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems

[theoptia]

C.G. Jung, from The Red Book: Liber Novus

[derangedrhythms]

Anne Michaels, Held

TEXT ID: Until the night we met, I had never imagined that–on either side of the boundary between breath and death–our longing, alas, alas, might be the same.

[heavensghost]

Words by Andrea Gibson

[wholeheartedsuggestions]

it’s okay to mourn lives you will never get to live even if you’re grateful for the life you are living now

[luminote]

[okatree]

[theoptia]

Hélène Cixous, from The Laugh of the Medusa

Text ID: I, too, overflow; my desires have invented new desires, my body knows unheard-of songs. Time and again I, too, have felt so full of luminous torrents that I could burst—

[violentcherries]

just so you know

2020

[mournfulroses]

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. 3. (1923-1927)

[wholeheartedsuggestions]

just make it exist. you can always make it good later.

[theoptia]

Yukio Mishima, from Spring Snow

Text ID: Dreams, memories, the sacred-they are all alike in that they are beyond our grasp. Once we are even marginally separated from what we can touch, the object is sanctified; it acquires the beauty of the unattainable, the quality of the miraculous. Everything, really, has this quality of sacredness, but we can desecrate it at a touch.