Me.siento.solo y abandonado
No paro de llorar
Abril 16//26
dirt enthusiast
cherry valley forever
🪼
Cosimo Galluzzi
Three Goblin Art

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we're not kids anymore.

Andulka
One Nice Bug Per Day

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
RMH
YOU ARE THE REASON

Janaina Medeiros
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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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blake kathryn
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
sheepfilms
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@cesarvert
Me.siento.solo y abandonado
No paro de llorar
Abril 16//26
Ícaro
I'm depressed tonight for things I've done and what I am. I feel guilt. I feel drained. At the end of the road. So much guilt and regret. To you would be nothing of importance. To some, it is. I feel like a checkers piece on a chess board. I have a drive. I have a goal. But no matter how much I try, I'll burn before I get to touch the sun.
RAWDOGGING ANTI-OEDIPUS TOMORROW
Risa de Babasónicos, del álbum Infame (2003)
How did we get here when I used to know you so well? How did we get here?
Yo!, what’s poppin’?
Hay un principio filosófico que dice que los contrarios se originan de los contrarios. Así como tras la vigilia viene el sueño, pero luego despertamos, de la misma manera tras la vida vendrá la muerte, pero la vida renacerá otra vez.
Goey, acabo de ver una foto tuya de secundaria & jfc puta! qué guapo! no jodas... me enamoré.
Mientras más feo más guapo, no?
And speaking of Sophia Tolstoy, her diaries are just so depressing.
“I am to gratify his pleasure and nurse his child, I am a piece of household furniture, I am a woman. I try to suppress all human feelings. When the machine is working properly it heats the milk, knits a blanket, makes little requests and bustles about trying not to think […].“
She wrote this when she was 19, one year into her marriage to Leo and as she was pregnant with the first of his 13 children.
A few years later, when she was 25 or so:
“I am so often alone with my thoughts that the need to write in my diary comes quite naturally … Now I am well again and not pregnant—it terrifies me how often I have been in that condition. He said that for him being young meant “I can achieve anything”. For me […] reason tells me that there is nothing I either want or can do beyond nursing, eating, drinking, sleeping, and loving and caring for my husband and babies, all of which I know is happiness of a kind, but why do I feel so woeful all the time, and weep as I did yesterday? I am writing this now with the pleasantly exciting sense that nobody will ever read it, so I can be quite frank with myself […].“
During her 12th pregnancy she wrote about taking scalding baths and jumping from high pieces of furniture to try and miscarry. And at one point while reading her husband’s diary (which he told her to read) she found the sentence “There is no such thing as love, only the physical need for intercourse and the practical need for a life companion.” In her own diary she wrote “They ebb and flow like waves, these times when I realise how lonely I am and want only to cry…”
A few years before her husband’s death, she published a cycle of prose poems titled “Groans”, under the pseudonym “A Tired Woman”.
the most depressing quote from her diaries:
“I have served a genius for almost forty years. Hundreds of times I have felt my intellectual energy stir within me and all sorts of desires - a longing for education, a love of music and the arts… And time and again I have crushed and smothered these longings… Everyone asks, “But why should a worthless woman like you need an intellectual or artistic life?” To this question I can only reply: “I don’t know, but eternally suppressing it to serve a genius is a great misfortune.”
Of Croatia wins you...
Let's meet up!