Claire Keane
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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cherry valley forever
Not today Justin
blake kathryn
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oozey mess
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@devotedlywaywardperfection
if you assume that i'm ignoring you, please be pleased to be informed that your assumption is absolutely correct.
that sounds a lil rude but i think that an existential crisis barging through my door without even knocking is even more impertinent
if you assume that i'm ignoring you, please be pleased to be informed that your assumption is absolutely correct.
i die everyday from everything. all the things i hear and all that i see. for instance, yesterday, your own son told you that he didn't like you. and you just sat there, in rapt silence (and maybe shock too). you didn't ask him why he didn't like you, all you ever did was tell him that you didn't like him either, expecting his heart to condense into inconspicuous fibres made from the same material as murky skies are. i didn't look at the hurt in his eyes when you told him that, the walls were thinner than ever and the room growing smaller in size by each passing second. i wonder if you regret gifting him life. i wonder if he regrets accepting that gift too. your chromosomes are what make him him, and you say you hate him. but isn't that the same as hating yourself? come to think of it, you've never hated yourself, so why do you hate him? why do you hate me?
what do you do with three feet long hair?
just thinking of how our meaning or purpose in life is merely to experience. eating an orange segment, hoping for snow, being in love, returning over and over to one painting, stepping outside for the full moon, submersion in water, having a favourite colour, knowing beauty, feeling alone, feeling connected, feeling longing… it is enough.
The fact that anger is a secondary emotion… that its source is grief… how tragic and poetic
Svetlana Alexievich, Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets (trans. Bela Shayevich)
“One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.”
— Mark Schwahn
“She peels an orange, separates it in perfect halves, and gives one of them to me. If I could wear it like a friendship bracelet, I would. Instead I swallow it section by section and tell myself it means even more this way. To chew and to swallow in silence with her. To taste the same thing in the same moment.”
— We Are Okay, Nina Lacour
Gabriela Mistral, from a letter to Doris Dana c. January 1950 (translated by Velma García-Gorena)
i want to be so kind it echoes backwards in time and undoes the things that hurt you. i want to be so kind it radiates from me. i want to be so kind that i make someone else find faith in humanity again. there’s not much i can do, i’m small and weak and i only know so many words. but i know i can be kind. and sometimes, i believe, that changes the world.
i hope i'm kind enough one day
i wake up. i immediately crave physical affection
didn't needed to be called out like that but okay
Caroline Bird
this is so beautiful i can't-
“I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favourite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.”
— Jamie Campbell Bower (via dailyjamiebower)
so much talk about love in the kitchen... what about the kitchen breakdowns
i am talking about baking at ungodly hours because you can’t sleep. i am talking about sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing. i am talking about staring into the fridge or the cabinets for minutes, there is nothing to eat and it makes you upset. i am talking about cooking at the stove, and then you’re wondering what it feels like for someone to wrap their arms around you from behind, and then you’re crying. i am talking about dishes upon dishes piled up in the sink. i am talking about eating on the floor. i am talking about the moment you realize that cooking for one stopped being efficient and started feeling agonizing. i am talking about mumbling to yourself in the kitchen and crying to yourself in the kitchen and when there’s only yourself in the kitchen
if i had a hot academic rival i would be at least 55% more motivated to study so i can beat their score in every exam. applications open
but what about the other 45%?
December
I wish the weight on my shoulder was your head resting gently the warmth of your body cradled softly by mine huddled and cuddled beneath a blanket together next to a fire and a freshly cut pine but the weight that I feel isn’t you or another just the burdens I bury in bottles of wine so I sit here alone with the world turning colder knowing our future withered dead on the vine
a-poetic-elsewhere
because poetry is one of the few things that i live for and this one touched by heart
