Gertrud Kolmar, from âA Jewish Mother from Berlin & Susanna: A Novella,â
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Cosmic Funnies
No title available
almost home

izzy's playlists!
trying on a metaphor

Love Begins
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Stranger Things
d e v o n

Kiana Khansmith
YOU ARE THE REASON
will byers stan first human second
icyghini twinkie
Claire Keane
One Nice Bug Per Day
Noah Kahan
we're not kids anymore.

No title available
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
seen from Norway
seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Japan

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Norway

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Germany
seen from Honduras

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
@lostinthewinterwinds
Gertrud Kolmar, from âA Jewish Mother from Berlin & Susanna: A Novella,â
Osip Mandelstam, tr. by Bernard Meares, from âThe Finder of a Horseshoe,â
hir¡aeth
/âhir,Äeth/
noun a homesickness for a home you can not return to or a home that never was.
By: Matilde
By: Margo
stampsandstamps
Kevin Russ.
By: Mazale
Revenge has consumed every part of her that once held deep, soft love.
Nikita Gill, from âGreat Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths & Monsters,â (via violentwavesofemotion)
The loneliness is suffocating. At all hours, a ringing in my ears - that undertone. In the store, in the shower, in front of the people I love. Lonely like a fist in the mouth, like netting in my diaphragm, like a rotted tooth. Everything I put in my body just feels like cotton, all smooth and numb and unsatisfying. Who am I even looking for. What do I seek. What went to bed and never woke up inside me.
âI sit here alone, burning,â
â Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter to Yannis Stavridakis c. December 1917
âLeave it to youth to make joy out of nothing.â
â Oliver de la Paz, âSelf-Portrait with Schlitz, a Pickup, and the Snake River,â from Requiem for the Orchard
They said the living and the dead should not fall in love.
But her heart was so cold that dead fingers warmed it.
I wonder which of us is dead? the ghost asked.
âJust hold me,â she asked, and dead fingers slowly warmed her.
Who hurt you this bad? the ghost asked.
âWho didnât?â she replied
And not for the first time the ghost wished there was an exorcism that worked on the living.