DAWN

22 | intp 594

[bedlund]

everything is so funny. When i ignore the dread

[leninthesixth]

think about this every time i watch videos about youtuber drama

[dumbassdumas]

The IWTV writers creating Daniel Molloy

[ozempicofficial]

[deanwinchesterapologist]

just found out you can do more than one thing each day. i was just doing the one

[batrachised]

[trinitysantosdoesnowrong]

The crazy thing about the Pitt is that there are like five Chekhov’s guns and they are shooting different mirrors and bouncing off them all around that damn hospital and they all are going to hit Robby in the head.

[retrohaunts]

The siblings of all time

[theatomicluminarydetective]

oh boy i’m winded

[loveridden1999]

[smokefalls]

let me be a witness to love stand on the outside and see tenderness unbidden

bell hooks, When Angels Speak of Love

[smokefalls]

even in paradise i dream you are coming love to resurrect me to save me from decay and lead me home

bell hooks, When Angels Speak of Love

[phantomrose96]

*sends out email I've been putting off* ah finally :). ah that's a weight off my shoulders :). ah I can relax an-- *receives response to email* what the fuck. what the fuck. what the fuckkkk

[moonlight-dove]

"And under the same roof, we spoke our first words.

Mines was Baba.

His was Amir. My Name."

- The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini

[dawnnotfound]

If I continue to write, it's because I have nothing more to accomplish in this world except to wait for death. Searching for the word in darkness. Any little success invades me and puts me in full view of everyone. I longed to wallow in the mud. I can scarcely control my need for self-abasement, my craving for licentiousness and debauchery. Sin tempts me, forbidden pleasures lure me. I want to be both pig and hen, then kill them and drink their blood.

Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star

[petaltexturedskies]

She wasn't crying because of the life she led: because, never having led any other, she'd accepted that with her that was just the way things were. But I think she was crying because, through the music, she might have guessed there were other ways of feeling.

Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star

[kosmogrl]