“I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.”
— Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

Janaina Medeiros
Sade Olutola
we're not kids anymore.
No title available
sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast
tumblr dot com
AnasAbdin

Andulka
d e v o n
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Product Placement
YOU ARE THE REASON

No title available
occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz

PR's Tumblrdome
trying on a metaphor
Three Goblin Art
KIROKAZE
seen from T1
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye

seen from Italy

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Mexico
seen from Romania
seen from T1

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

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seen from United Kingdom
@captains-log-1997
“I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.”
— Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow
I don't know who I am anymore.
I don't agree with the things I say. I say them so others will agree with me.
I don't believe in the things I do. I just do them so others will believe in me.
I exist in lies. In contradictions. In passive aggressiveness and blatant hatred of the world. All because I feel like the world hates me back.
I am 27. Yet I feel like I'm 80. My heart still feels like when I was 5 and experienced my first heartbreak. And my brain is stuck on 17. Scared. Stuck. Stupid 17.
To be human is to contain multitudes; that I know. But does it also consider contradictions? Because I dont think so.
Earth, seen from a distance as a going out of business pet store. — Village Fetish (@botandy)
“The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die.”
— Juliette Lewis
Ultramedium, Lee Stewart
I saw a pretty pink cloud last Friday. It nestled itself between two high rise buildings along Ayala Avenue. At that time I was walking to the train station with my coworkers. I didn't realise I was turning 28 back then.
Just a few hours a ago, someone I knew born in 1997 just celebrated their birthday. They presented themselves as happy. Kept repeating they're 28 with much gusto. And I... Well... Here I am, dreading the day I turn 28.
I'm nobody yet. People 5 years younger than me are somebodies now. I am surrounded by people younger than me. And I am a nobody yet.
I am confused. Once again, scared. Inspired but overcome with fear and intimidation.
Tomorrow is Monday. I want to leave my workplace. It sucks the living soul out of me. The people are terrible too. Just like me. They're terrible too.
I hope my fear now is something I'm gonna laugh about when I'm 40. Like how I used to laugh at myself for being too scread about being 18. And 20. And 25.
I've only said I'm 27 a few times this year. For some reason I already feel like it was slipping away fast even before I am halfway to the finish line.
Tomorrow is Monday. I need to sleep. I'm a writer. Yet somehow I barely feel like one.
Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle, Vladimir Nabokov
“Don’t abuse a kind heart. You may never be offered one again.”
— Pokello Nare
alex hirsch going rogue… king shit
this is the best thing I've seen today
Photo by Azad Balabanian
"I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together."
-Lisa Kleypas
“Norte, the End of History” (2013) Lav Diaz
Salman Toor, Three Friends in a Cab, 16 x 20 inches, 2021
I'm something short of a kettle whisting...
I'm something short of a father crying...
I'm something short of someone admitting guilt...
I'm something short of an old dog with no food tomorrow...
I'm something short of someone dying but not yet..
I'm something short of a poet who fell out of love...
I'm something short of a volcano causing all the tremble we do not feel until its too late...
I'm something short of someone who doesn't know what she wants, and what she doesn't.
The New Yorker
“I am going to marry somebody that makes me feel like a poem.”
— Lee Smith, Fair and Tender Ladies
— Sylvia Plath, from "Letters Home"
[text ID: I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.]