oh tenderness

sublime

[arjunasearth]

music- and the expression of it through dancing - are purely psychedelic experiences themselves. You unlayer different versions of yourself. You literally dive into cosmic flow, embodying source energy yourself. You are a shapeshifter. You can adjust form by thought. You can shift consciousness. You are an antenna, transmitting energy all of the time. Yes , you can be stuck. Yes, that energy can feel stagnant. Yes, you can get sick. But never forget that you are always open to the flow of SOURCE. You can break out of patterns ~within the flow of the Quantum Field. You are always connected to Source. You are frequency. You are vibration. You are bridging terrestrial with extraterrestrial realms. Wake the fuck up. You are alive. You are breathing. You are fucking magic.

[landmineblogging]

someone you lost is thinking about you right now. you'll never meet them again but the time you spent together is still an open window in their head. memories fly by like birds in peripheral. can you feel that little piece of yourself that you left with them still resonating in-between all the empty space you made? you can't even remember their name. not the color of his eyes. not the sound of her voice. did zhe even exist at all? you hear a dull hum at the edge of your headspace. an ethereal hand brushes over yours & leaves again in an instant & the hair on your knuckles sticks up straight. what if all the love you ever gave was just recycled from the people that legitimately loved you? look at me. i don't care if you post this or where you thought you were going when you started writing it but right now it's just us. don't turn away. forgetting doesn't excuse anything. it is only a passing grace

[kisxmesoft]

[pangur-and-grim]

[rozzed]

why not have the reader re-read a sentence now and then? it won't hurt him....

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if she’s sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if she’s perhaps worried she’s a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and that’s enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said she’s here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then she’ll make another one. I said “isn’t it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?” and she just looked at me funny and said “what do you mean? The whole world was here, waiting”. Some people, I tell you.

[tatzelwurming]

listen i consider myself an empathic person but after a certain point i get sick of other people’s problems. my friend is always talking about how the jewel-eyed skull on their mantlepiece is tormenting them w its sinister beauty and im over it. like dude i don’t want to talk about this anymore. get rid of the fucking skull

[chandra-telescope]

hope is a skill

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

hope is a weapon you are trained to wield

[chandra-telescope]

favourite additions

[chandra-telescope]

[tenaciouswritingdragon]

You cannot hide this in the tags, bestie. This is too lovely to keep a secret.

[wonderwyrm]

[girlfictions]

Mary Oliver, from Upstream: Selected Essays

[boykeats]

[ID: image text reading, "Knowledge has entertained me and it has shaped me and it has failed me. Something in me still starves." /end ID]

[metamorphesque]

why do all the words sound heavier in my native language?

—  @metamorphesque, Yoojin Grace Wuertz (Mother Tongue), Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky (by Garth Greenwell), Jhumpa Lahiri (Translating Myself and Others), @lifeinpoetry

[lilllium]

—Kitchen Mckeown, from Outbreaks

[boykeats]

[ID: poem text reading,

"i crawl in the moss. it is easy to find god. she is a cluster of eels beneath my palms. i ask of her, am i doing any of this life right? and she, with her many mouths, says nothing."

/end ID]

[brandneweyescd]

they were right btw. you have to dig yourself out of your grave over and over again

[choysum]

Anne Boyer

[beingharsh]

It is the phenomenon sometimes called alienation from self. In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the spectre of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that one's sanity becomes an object of speculation among one's acquaintances. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves—there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.

"On Self-Respect", Joan Didion

[imagelvr]

jędrzej bieńko

[dark-lady-of-the-sith]

[thisisalovestry]

file -> phrases that are going to shift something in me forever

[insomniparty]

[angelnumber27]

The stages of bruise healing