Basic

she/her/they/them - bisexual. Scared of life so I spend it reblogging aesthetics, ironic humor, and wokeness I believe should be spread

[lost-dot-com]

hey youre not active so youll probably not see this but. its better to be alone than with someone whos bad for you. it doesnt matter if your family is terrible. its like, would you rather have one shit sandwich or two, when you have the option to have none? being alone is lonely but lonely is not the worst feeling.

ah, I just opened the app again, and I saw my last post. God, I am so so much better now. I left him, this time for good, and I have amazing friends who value friendship as much as I do, and I'm not so hopeless about love haha

I've also learnt to deal with my family and have much better boundaries. But thank you, kind person <3

wise advice indeed

[thecolorblockcurator]

The Black Cat, 1899, Leon V. Solon

[11411111-deactivated20180207]

[recaption]

[decision]

[noelbadgespugh]

[love]

The Heavenly Tenants by Ilonka Karasz (1896-1981)

[nhlh-95]

[evelyndragan]

November 19, 2018

[paulblartmallcop2]

Belladonna of Sadness (1973, dir. Eiichi Yamamoto)

[literaryrain]

The remains of a summer day 🌱✏️

(Instagram: @alara_aydin)

[dear-photograph]

[latinademais]

I saw my life unfold before me like a fig tree from a tale I had read. From the end of each branch, a fat purple fig waved and seduced me with a wonderful future. One fig meant a husband and a happy home with children, another was a famous poet, another a teacher, another was Esther Greenwood, the surprising publisher, another was Europe, Africa and South America, another Constantin and Socrates and Attila, a bunch of lovers with weird names and original professions, another was yet an Olympic champion, and above all those figs were many others I couldn’t understand. I found myself sitting under that fig tree, starving, just because I couldn’t decide which fig to choose. I wanted them all, and choosing one meant losing the rest. Unable to make up my mind, the figs were beginning to wilt and rot, and one by one they fell to the ground at my feet.

— The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath

[ph-agnostic]

[girlinlondon]

[drxgonfly]

[noelbadgespugh]