'Myself' is not the finished article yet.

Planet Earth, Europe, female with a heart of a dreamer. Mind of a pessimistic realist. Smile of an optimist. The perfect masquerade or more simple - work in progress... This blog is NSFW and 18+, so if you’re under that age, please leave my blog. Thank...

[mournfulroses]

Vladimir Mayakovsky, from a letter featured in "Love in the Heart of Everything; The Correspondence between Vladimir Mayakovsky & Lili Brik, 1915-1930,"

[metamorphesque]

"A Shirt Made of Fire", Vardges Petrosyan (translated by metamorphesque)

[whitehotel]

[dasoloio]

whitehotel:

Francesca Woodman, Untitled, Providence, Rhode Island (1976)

[weltenwellen]

“I wish you a kinder sea.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Catherine May Scott c. August 1848

[shisasan]

𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟷𝟼, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟸 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: breakdown, impossible to sleep, impossible to stay awake, impossible to endure life, or, more exactly, the course of life. END ID.]

[shisasan]

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟽, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: Sleep seems impossible. END ID]

[shisasan]

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟽, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟸 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶 -𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[ID: August 7. Long torment. END ID]

[shisasan]

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟹𝟷, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: July 31. But I will write in spite of everything, absolutely; it is my struggle for self-preservation. END ID]

[shisasan]

𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟾, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟸 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[shisasan]

𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟾, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[verycoolphoto]

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

But I am too tired to write, too driven, too screaming inside. I feel too fiercely to write, even to talk. It is no good to be alone either; though one makes no noise the screaming is all there.

Martha Gellhorn, from selected Letters

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn't let me.

Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

I feel spent, lost, given, empty.

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way.

Gillian Flynn, from Dark Places

[metamorphesque]

— Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[text ID: Outside it is warm and blue and April.]

[shisasan]

𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟼, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟸
 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹