to be gorgeous only briefly

em. 23. she/her. writing blog. follows from hollerans

[luthienne]

“We held hands. I was wondering what it would be like to have a home of your own where you could come and go, where people would be welcome, where you would never be frightened again.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

[engulfes]

'“It’s the little cruelties that get you,” she told him. “Never the big hurts, the pains you can point to, and say, ‘Oh, I see this bruise,’ but the wounds that you can’t even tell are there until one day you are eating a bowl of fennel soup or sunbathing on the deck of the pool and you can’t move, you can’t do anything, because you think, Well, something is dead in me, what has been done to me, and why did I allow this to happen? And now, and now, and now…”’

- Regina Porter, The Travelers

[weltenwellen]

Clarice Lispector, tr. by Johnny Lorenz, Um Sopro de Vida

[primulaceas]

Julian K. Jarboe, "First Contact, Communion." Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel

[aseaofquotes]

Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

[metamorphesque]

1. Meg Day 2. Haruki Murakami 3. Edouard Labrosse 4. Rainer Maria Rilke 5. Ron Hicks 6. Virginia Woolf 7. Joan Didion 8. Ron Hicks 9. Sylvia Plath 10. Anne Magill 11. Franz Kafka 12. Peter Wever 13. Vi Khi Nao 14. Peter Wever 15. Anna Akhmatova

[25436445767787687676786-deactiv]

“I could not stop wasting time. It was crazy. I wanted to do something with my life, but instead I went to sleep, or sung in the shower, or sat and stared at the wall. I couldn’t even tell you about anything that I saw. I didn’t talk to anybody. The cicadas kept dying outside, and as I dreamed, my mouth grew thick and venomous with silence.”

— Yiwei Chai, The Jacaranda Years (via crowsummer)

[voirlvmer]

Christopher Kondrich, from “Asylum” / Hong Sungchul, “String Mirror” / Natalia Diaz, from “The Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bones” / Hong Sungchul, “String - Hands” (2014) / David Wojnarowicz, from “When I Put My Hands on Your Body” (1990) / Anne Sexton, from “The Touch”

[hellishcreature]

Home with you - FKA Twigs / Sarah Kane, Psychosis 4.48 / Florence Welch / Princess Mononoke Dir. Hayao Miazaki, 1997 / Fleabag / No choir - Florence + the Machine / Marcel Proust in a letter

[lifeinpoetry]

i carved the face of someone no longer alive into / the sky so that i did not grieve alone. i plucked the moon. peeled / its rind. as the world turned in the dark, i filled myself on its pulp.

— Alfredo Aguilar, from “I’m Told My Younger Siblings Look up to Me,” On This Side Of The Desert (via lifeinpoetry)

[miracle-vine]

“My love is honey tongue. Dandelion wine in a pitcher. Thirsty love. My love licks it’s fingers before it has even fed. My love is peach juice dripping down the neck. Too much sugar love. Cavity love. Toothache, tummy ache love. Soft hands holding the jaw open love. Summer love. Sticky sweet, sticky sweat love. My love can’t ride a bike. My love walks everywhere. Wanders through the river. Feeds the fish, skips the stones. Barefoot love. My love stretches itself out on the grass, kisses a nectarine. My love is never waiting. My love is a traveller, a fruit-eater, a holder. My love is alive. Warm. It lives. It breathes.”

— Caitlyn Siehl, Warm after “Love, Gravity, and Other Forces” by Anita Ofokansi (via alonesomes)

[primulaceas]

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath; entry no. 104

[cosmicwritings]

i wasn’t lying when i said i was always going to want you but it’s a dull ache now kinda like stubbing your toe right i was pins and needles i was screaming in pain the entire time but mostly i forget it hurts now i love you and i’m never going to claw my way back out of that but it’s fine now i can breathe! imagine that! i can think about the way you say my name and not feel the slice of love! if you touched me again i would probably be black and blue but it’s not a fight, is it? you’re saying it’s a shot in the dark red light emergency room accident, not a war never a war, but i can’t even feel you sometimes anymore could you ever believe me if i told you that

[cosmicwritings]

did i ever say thank you or did i get caught up in the i hate yous? the slamming doors and the tear-stained pillow and the pathetic voicemails. no, i mean it, did i ever say thank you for the way you made me kind for a moment. love makes me soft, i’ll admit, it makes me do silly things, but i was also better because of you. the train wreck is still a train wreck but it was a beautiful journey if you think about it. i can look people in the eye now without flinching. i can let a boy sleep in my bed all the way to morning and not feel dirty. you made me laugh easier and i think i’m going to spend my life chasing that again but it’s okay, i’m really thankful i was something good for a moment. never have i felt gentle, i’ve always been a burning house, thank you for making me warm.

[neoyorzapoteca]

Sour Girl: Jenny Zhang | Office Magazine

[random-questions-fairy]

Oh my gosh. I just found this website that walks you though creating a believable society. It breaks each facet down into individual questions and makes it so simple! It seems really helpful for worldbuilding!

[pocmuzings]

“i feel like a subway station and what i mean is, i am something liminal. what i mean is, everyone is always leaving. it is always getting dark and everything is always too loud. there is ruin where ruin shouldn’t live. there is the stench of bad decisions in the dirt. what i mean is, i am always halfway to a beautiful place. i have only see heaven from the postcards.”

— empty || s.o. (via nastyorchid)