[firstfullmoon]

Maggie Smith, “Wild”

[kosmogrl]

deciding one day that you want to build a life for yourself is so scary. like damn I really want to live… I’m new to this. where do I even begin

[wovi]

[petaltexturedskies]

Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than penis and scrotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable feminity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[deanwinchesterapologist]

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

[tekunoraizu]

FUCKKKKKKK what if something bad happened and I forgot to worry about it

[macabrevampire]

still thinking fondly of people who don't give a shit about me

[2colde]

they call me the endurer the way i endure and endure and endure and endure and well u get it

[speedlimit15]

Letting the days go by

[amazoogle]

it's Tuesday all day today and there's no known way to prevent this

[weltenwellen]

Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem

[girlwhoisgoingtobeokay]

[sfsolstice]

Carl Phillips, from "Everything All of It," in Then The War

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque-deacti]

Life, and Nothing More, Abbas Kiarostami, 1992

[mournfulroses]

Albert Camus, from a letter to María Casares featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959

[orthoscheme]

supermarkets should have benches

[orthoscheme]

everywhere should have benches

[soracities]

Jeremy Radin, from "Lazar Wolf the Butcher" (poem written during staging of Fiddler on the Roof at Paper Mill Playhouse, shared on his IG page) [ID'd]