Euphoria 3.08, "In God We Trust" I dir.Sam Levinson
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trying on a metaphor
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$LAYYYTER
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YOU ARE THE REASON

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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Euphoria 3.08, "In God We Trust" I dir.Sam Levinson
I donāt like this trend in media where struggling characters āhaveā to die. why arenāt addicts and outcasts allowed to have happy or hopeful endings anymore. I know things are bleak and people die but holy shit. the one grace of media is that you can CHOOSE to live in the best reality possible where EVERYONE can move on with their life and things can get better, not this defeatist nonsense.
Fezco and Rue
on todayās episode of āis it anxiety or am i just sickā I woke up with an intense feeling of malaise and wanting to throw up. Add to that a massive headache šš¾
ah yes, waking up with severe anxiety š¤©š¤©
Tonight I Can Write
by Pablo Neruda tr. W.S. Merwin
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, āThe night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.ā
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, thatās certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Anotherās. She will be anotherās. As she was before my kisses. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, thatās certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.
triggering myself by being on here and #remembering š„“
yeah.. done with that now actually
realistically i dont think i fit in anywhere, but im just trying to enjoy life for what it is
everything is horrible
Iām so over living. So over existing
when does it end..
āDo you realise how devoted I am to you, all the same? There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, dearest Honey.ā
// Virginia Woolf, "Letter to Vita Sackville-West," 16 February 1927
Oh God, Iām so tired. 6 July, 1927 The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1924-1941)
š«©
right, right , right š
everything is so fckn terrible icl