of the rage of achilles

xxiv. Because the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing.

[dysphoresque]

unloved kids grow up even more unloved. it's hard to pinpoint where it blurs and starts becoming a decision, [a self imposed tragedy? a coping mechanism that became a hobby?] or was it second nature? to look for the same fire because warmth is still warmth, and because oscar wilde said a burnt child loves the fire, and you started nodding in the same moment you find yourself asking, did he also know the fire is the child's first taste of love?

[dysphoresque]

leila chatti / muslim girlhood // john steinbeck / east of eden // nicola yoon

[dysphoresque]

why is normal people by sally rooney lowkey giving written by an asexual person with religious trauma and a tilted relationship with guilt hinting at blasphemy and a very human exploration of relationships?

[dysphoresque]

“you dodged a bullet”

thanks but i didn't. the bullet was lodged in my chest for years before i carved an exit wound with a dull knife and wrenched that rotten bullet out with my bare hands. when it came out it was transformed, parts of the gunk that was once my flesh clung to it for life. do you know what it's like to hold something beyond reason? i almost died trying to believe it was love. sometimes when i stare at the mangled glob of flesh left in what used to be my chest i think, maybe letting it kill me instead is better.

[dysphoresque]

happy mothers' day to those who celebrate and greet their moms bec yes you love her, you do, and you're so grateful. you know how she did her best, is doing her best, and you love her so much but you also resent her because her love was a fire, it burns. it destroys everything it loves. but you don't exactly blame her, you know her love was her own resistance. you know her love was forged from her wretched way of crawling out of the hell her own mother put her through. but that changes nothing. you are a burnt child. you love the fire. every time you let someone destroy you, it comes back to her. nothing feels real if it doesn't burn you out. that even now you are old enough to know better, you sit here wondering why you let people treat you this way until you arrive back to her voice in your head and you nod to yourself almost in resignation thinking, "that was why."

[weltenwellen]

Glennon Doyle, Untamed

[weltenwellen]

Louise Glück, from “Otis”, Poems 1962 - 2012

[dysphoresque]

— Madonna in a Fur Coat, Sabahattin Ali

[weltenwellen]

Joy Sullivan, “Want", Instructions for Traveling West

[dysphoresque]

leila chatti / muslim girlhood // john steinbeck / east of eden // nicola yoon

[dysphoresque]

[on the story of Cain and Abel]

— East of Eden, John Steinbeck

[dysphoresque]

— East of Eden, John Steinbeck

[dysphoresque]

“And Adam was more afraid of the gentleness than he had been at the violence, for it seemed to him that he was being trained as a sacrifice, almost as though he was being subjected to kindness before death...”

— East of Eden, John Steinbeck

[dysphoresque]

“It was the end. But we did not know it then. You do not know the end has happened until later. Or you do not admit it. Looking back, you can see it. And you realise that all the time after that was just an effort to keep going as if it weren’t already over.”

– It Lasts Forever and Then It's Over, Anne de Marcken

[dysphoresque]

from the Letters of Vincent van Gogh

[dysphoresque]

— from The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

[gorbling]

Im enjoying the longevity of tumblrs recontextualization style of humor. a seemingly innocuous post followed by like "posts that a gnome would make" or like "are you a phone"

[gorbling]

[hapalopus]

[hapalopus]

More from the notes:

[vexwerewolf]

I love this post

[karifaevt]

The horse thinks as it scratches an itch

[mournfulroses]

Else Fitzgerald, from "Everything Feels Like the End of The World," publ. in 2022