the dear bastard 𖤐

Doomed by the narrative. 23

[stayuntilthefoglifts]

People who wound us get no say in how we clean up the blood.

Harriet Selina

[batsandboba]

“scientists don’t want you know” is a phrase that always cracks me up because if you actually meet a scientist they will be shaking and crying like an overstimulated chihuahua with the need to let you know

[metamorphesque]

In Praise of Boredom, Joseph Brodsky

[theoptia]

Robert Eggers, from the original Nosferatsu script (2016)

Text ID: I have sought a creature from the depths. An Eve that remembers her Eden. You are such a one.

[mournfulroses]

Osip Mandelstam, tr. by Bernard Meares, from a poem titled "Herds of horses whinny and graze,"

[paper-wounds]

[uniquecookie]

Will you wait for me?

- I never left.

[rosieandthemoon]

[mournfulroses]

Savannah Brown, from a poem titled "Poet (derogatory)," featured in Closer Baby Closer: Poems

[tealeafed]

One thing I love about studying math is that when you ask any fellow student or prof why they went into math we all say it’s because we find it beautiful. It’s so diametrically opposed to the opinion that everyone else has about math that it feels like some kind of virus that infects you and makes you unable to study anything else

[scary-white]

I don't care if she commits atrocities, bro, she's justified by the narrative

[a-mind-in-ruins]

"you really dodged a bullet"

no, i chased after that bullet and begged it to kill me because i wanted to be loved that bad.

[jadedfadedalmostgone]

never back to ussr core

[lunamonchtuna]

— Ayesha Nadkar (via lunamonchtuna)

[timewench]

2.28.25

abandoned rehab center by me

[etoilesetcafe]

have you forgotten the promise of youth? We were young fools with dreams and empty words, crushing purple hyacinths as we run across fields chasing the sun as it set.

light flits across fields of golden wheat the color of your hair on my face when passion steals our heart and the heat was so great that it melts our body.

the promise of youth, a pact made by fools. the field of purple hyacinths waiting, forgotten by all but the sun.

fools that we were, for believing in eternity, for thinking that we could defy time with our youth.

[shadygrovebaptist]