dusk & dawn

[8rujaa]

what’s the psychology behind losing feelings towards someone you liked intensely once you realized they felt the same way back?

[8rujaa]

holy shit

[apocryphics]

from Essays in Love by Alain De Botton

[ryebreadgf]

[hauntboy]

Alice, 1988, dir. Jan Švankmajer

[poesiaparalosdiasnublados]

Poema de Raúl Zurita.

[venetians]

(par LdDH)

[sunbathe]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BOgGbEZhndM/

[ecstaticactus]

Winona Ryder in 90s' 🪄

[cor-ardens-archive]

“Here lie the seeds of Gothic fantasy, in that desire for the ‘other’, perceived as needed to complete the ‘self’, is transgressive desire which leads to self destruction.”

— Avril Horner & Sue Zlosnik, ‘Family Gothic’ in Daphne du Maurier: Writing, Identity and the Gothic Imagination (via rotgospels)

[wedge-of-poetry]

You go home and invent a story about me, and now you can’t separate me from the person you’ve imagined me to be. You call that, I suppose, being in love; as a matter of fact it’s being in delusion.

Virginia Woolf, Night and Day

[murraysiskind-deactivated202406]

I hate flirting. I find it humiliating. Act normal and I will decide if I find you sexy... none of these theatrics and tricks... none of this treacherousness...

[weltenwellen]

"James Baldwin, The Art of Fiction No. 78", An Interview by Jordan Elgrably

[flowerytale]

Fernando Pessoa ― The Book of Disquiet

[metamorphesque]

― David Foster Wallace, Consider the Lobster and Other Essays

[ethiopienne]

“Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me to diminish me. I am who I am, doing what I came to do, acting upon you like a drug or a chisel to remind you of your me-ness, as I discover you in myself.”

— Audre Lorde, “Eye to Eye”

[luthienne]

Lucille Clifton, from The Book of Light; “Climbing”

[eulum]

What do you think of yourself? When you reflect, what do you see?

I see a lot of ugliness and sadness but a lot of beauty and hope, too. I see someone who's been struggling to live a good life, struggling to love what they are. I have a lot of issues, but I think deep down all I want is to be good. I have a lot of love to give. I think I'm complex and different but at the same time I'm just like everybody else. I think I've never been loved the way I wanted and needed to be loved. But that didn't make me a monster and that's something to be proud of. Sometimes I think I'm useless and nobody wants me and no one would care if I was gone. I'm scared that I will have nothing to show for having been here at all. But even if all of that is true, I think it's still good to be here, on Earth, it's good to be a person, it's good to live. Maybe I don't matter that much, but that's OK. No one really does, not in the grand scheme of things. I think I spent so much time wishing I was different that I forgot how to appreciate myself for who I am. I wish I could return to a child-like state of pure being, at one with the world. I wish I could cut all the bitterness and hurt out of my heart and replace it with light. I think of all the people who ever made me feel worthless. I still wish them well. I think at the centre of my being runs a deep psychic wound, and it's both a curse and a gift and I will be nursing this wound till my very last breath.

[heartshop]

Keith Haring, Journals