ad meliora.

i am nothing in my soul if not obsessive °˖✧ div | xxi | she/they | desi | writer ✧˖°

[fromdivwithlove]

perhaps it takes longer. perhaps it never ends.

fefu and her friends by maria irene fornes

[theinsomniacindian]

Indian Chaotic Academia

Wanting to wear jumpers and hoodies but changing your mind after looking at the daily temperature

Scoring 97% in English in your board exams but your spoken English makes you sound like you are an illiterate crackhead

Messy yet (somewhat) intelligible handwriting

A weak spot for old Bollywood songs regardless of your personal taste in music

Wanting to study in a park or a cafe but you can't as they're too loud and busy

Adrak chai is the solution to everything

Muting the class WhatsApp group so you can read angsty fanfiction at 3 a.m. without alerting your parents

Buying several highlighters but still end up using blunt pencils to mark important study material

At some point, a B is the best grade you'll ever find in your report card

Reading the Mahabharata at the back of the class in the same way you would read a modern novel ("Nooo, why did he have to die 😭")

Coming up with ideas for study charts but never actually making them

The poem you have to learn in your regional language class is actually your favourite childhood song

Getting the 'Slytherin house' that always comes last in every school event

[old-school-romantics]

— Richard Jackson

[fromdivwithlove]

— lodhi garden, delhi

[noorovee-deactivated20240720]

Current aesthetic : Desi women in paintings

[dark-sappho]

"defend your thesis" why are you attacking my thesis

[89words]

“This is me remembering not to fall through the mirror to hug my past this is me trying not to be the girl that writes of love and ghosts and forgets to live.”

— Michelle K., The Writer That Forgot to Live. 

[greyhairlama]

Perhaps in a less chaotic realm, not here, in some distant galaxy, we are not just like a poet and his lost poetry, the moon and her afar admirer. But far more than that, perhaps there we are entwined in singularity—inseperable, You and I.

-ally

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

{Quotes: We are okay ,Nina lacor / Christopher citro ,our life when it's filled with shrikes / alessia di Cesare /jean little/Pinterest image quote / Kendrick lamer / Frank Ocean / Pinterest image quote}

Web weaving on love being stored in oranges and kitchen table

[metamorphesque]

— 34 excuses for why we failed at love, Warsan Shire

[metamorphesque]

— clair de lune, tathève simonyan         

[text ID: i want a “waking up naked under dusty pink silky sheets” scene: / sunlights of hair cascading over the ivory of my back / untethered strands connecting beauty marks / my own constellation of starlight / and as the morning light sashays in / through the cracks / of this chain of blinds / and as this body of mine / welcomes in blues and yellows / there’s a sense of promise / dancing in the air / that’s not going anywhere. / i want a scene of / hands reaching for a door / not for a cover / for in this particular scene / there’s a body that wants to have me in it / and an i who wants to be in this body / i want this symbiotic bliss / this harmonious coexistence / of two opposing forces / reaching for the same door. / [i want debussy playing in the background] / hands reaching for a cup, hands boiling water, hands adding / a spoonful of coffee / hands never burning / hands running through hair / like wild horses / blindly unbounded / like leaves / succumbing to the breath of the wind / but in a good way / because succumbing oneself / doesn’t have to end with a death / not always / at least not when you can hear / clair de lune / softly whispering from the living room. / i want scenes with hands: / hands all over / all the time / hands that love / without a reason and with (one) / because it’s spring / because it’s no longer spring / because they are hands and that’s what they were made to do / because debussy is playing / and what else can one do / but love / unabashedly / with van gogh yellows / and picasso blues / and monet violets / and / i want a scene where / my name is no longer an unintended apology / but a silent promise / like the morning light / dancing in the air / painting its blue hues / yellow in its blues. / i want a scene where / my existence is a reason / and not an afterthought. / i want a scene of me not wanting any of these. / scenes of me naked under dusty pink silky sheets / waiting for the morning light / and knowing that it will come.]

[metamorphesque]

buy me a coffee

[metamorphesque]

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

[ritikajyala]

How do I tell you I love you without choking on the words?

Growing up, I never heard my family say 'I love you'. It was something people confessed in films and books and not what mother said to us or father told my mother. I love you was an exotic bird that existed somewhere in the world- too far away from us. I love you was a weakness that required immeasurable strength.

So, I pour my love in the morning coffee. And in the evening, I peel an orange for you, I love you. And I send you 15 cat pictures an hour, I love you and I hope you see it. And I text you good morning at the same time everyday, I love you, I love you, I love you. And until I learn to swallow it and live in it and whisper it, I hope you see how much I love you.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

[calamitys-child]

Plays and short fiction are about reading the single most fucked up thing you've ever encountered in 45 minutes or less and then going back to work like you didn't just meet both faces of god and satan on your lunch break

[lostalittle]

I love it when literature touches me, when it reaches my bones. It doesn't matter if it's in a pleasurable way or a horrifying way, either way it's satisfying.

[tolerateit]

“A Ghost Is a Memory.” On Bodies, Belief, and the Places Ghost Stories Live

[lulilak]