[itsnemesisstuff]

[itsnemesisstuff]

Once more, I shall lose myself as leaves are lost to the turning of the seasons, falling from spring’s tender embrace into autumn’s fading light.

The pain will remain, etched into me like fire upon flesh, a quiet ache that neither distance nor time can erase.

But I have learned this much: not every longing deserves to be fulfilled.

For there is a weight greater than tears, a heart that can no longer feel, eyes that can no longer cry. And in that numbness lies a sorrow deeper than any grief.

[itsnemesisstuff]

You don't know anything I've been through. You don't know the pain I've felt. You don't know how many tears I've shed. You don't know how many times I lost myself, again and again. You don't know how scared I was of becoming like my parents. But do you know what? I chose kindness. I never took my pain out on the people I loved. I cared. And I hate myself for not seeking revenge, because they would all deserve it. But I can't. I can't treat people the way they treated me. I hate myself for it. I hate myself.

[itsnemesisstuff]

Velvet Pages

If your soul has ever belonged to literature, this is your sign to stay.

A quiet little corner for readers, writers, poets and hopeless romantics who find comfort in ink-stained pages and beautifully written words.

Here we discuss novels that changed us, share favorite passages, annotate books, romanticize libraries and speak about characters as though they once lived beside us.

Whether you love classics, poetry, philosophy, gothic fiction or simply the feeling of getting lost inside a story - you are welcome here.

Come join us. Bring your favorite quotes, your current reads, your thoughts at midnight and the pieces of your soul hidden between pages. Link: https://www.tumblr.com/communities/velvet-pagess

[itsnemesisstuff]

I think I forgot how to write.

I forgot how to notice my feelings, how to name them before they vanish.

I don’t know if this is part of healing or just another kind of loss.

It frightens me.

Because writing was all I had left.

And to lose even that, to lose the one place where I still existed, would shape me into no one.

A hollow outline, a voice without language, a body carrying a name that no longer feels like mine.

[intactics-deactivated20250505]

the new heart I've been growing in my garden is at a strange and delicate stage of development

[slowtides]

Edvard Munch (1863-1944), The Woman and the Heart

[petaltexturedskies]

Ingeborg Bachmann, from "Eyes to Wonder" in Three Paths to the Lake

[itsnemesisstuff]

Sometimes I miss my own happiness

[weepingwidar]

Jannik Hösel (German, 1998) - Semele (2025)

[bnmxfld]

I need to stop fantasizing about running away to some other life and start figuring out the one I have.

Holly Black / The Darkest Part of the Forest

[deadpoet-skull]

" You died crying. I held you. You were safe. You died... loved." - The Reconciliation of the Montagues and the Capulets (1855), Frederic Leighton

[bnmxfld]

I knew it wasn’t too important, but it made me sad anyway.

J.D. Salinger / The Catcher in the Rye

[remanence-of-love]

[simena]

Sandro Botticelli - Primavera (detail)

[weltenwellen]

Erika L. Sánchez, from "Prodigal Daughter"

[thehopefulquotes]

“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.”

— C.S. Lewis

[mournfulroses]

Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Mrs. Holland, featured in The Letters of Emily Dickinson