◇♤▪︎☆museum of heartbreaks☆~°

[shisasan]

8 January, 1926 The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1924-1941)

[only-cat-memes]

[alchemicalcodes]

Anaïs Nin

[weltenwellen]

Wale Ayinla, from “Portrait of a Boy with Grief”

[weltenwellen]

Sally Wen Mao, from “Opera Sextronique”, Oculus

[moonmerkee]

[likewildhorses]

the night shift

[crossbitehaver]

[Text: “The Night Shift

The groundskeeper picks all of the flowers up on Thursdays at 6 pm, / and nothing else ever happens for him.

Somewhere in this cemetery lies sweet Ritchie Valens, / who the groundskeeper swears still sings Por ti seré, por ti seré.

But nothing else ever happens for him - he just throws flowers / into black bags, like he’s disposing of limbs after a disgusting crime.

He apologizes to each newly naked grave and hopes they understand / it’s not violence, but an invitation for more beautiful things.

Sometimes, the groundskeeper borrows a rose to tuck behind his ear / so he can feel less underdressed, so he can save something.

He mows their beds, and sort of hopes to die so he can rest here, too - / so someone can take care of him, even if just another groundskeeper.

When the flowers are gone, he buys a bottle of Coke / from the liquor store. A passing car plays “La Bamba”

and he washes death down. It sparkles in his throat.”]

[moonmerkee]

I have conculed that very pretty girls are very lonely

[moonmerkee]

[feral-ballad]

Joy Sullivan, from Instructions for Traveling West: Poems; “Of Wildflowers”

[shisasan]

It’s that time of the year again, when the blood rises sharp and alive, when the air bites at the edges of my skin and something deeper wakes, raw and electric, burning brighter as the days grow darker.

[theotherkingdoms]

— Megan Fernandes, “Do You Sell Dignity Here?” from I Do Everything I’m Told

[petaltexturedskies]

Mary Oliver, "The Moths" in Dream Work

[vympr]

i love reading sad books bc when your own grief is stopped up inside you like a clogged drain you can grieve for a character on a page and understand that you're also grieving for yourself a little bit

[petrichara]

‘There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you—may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you? Isn’t that why they are called actors? They act for you. You sacrifice them to action. And this sacrifice is a mode of deepest intimacy of you with your own life. Within it you watch [yourself] act out the present or possible organization of your nature. You can be aware of your own awareness of this nature as you never are at the moment of experience. The actor, by reiterating you, sacrifices a moment of his own life in order to give you a story of yours.’

-Anne Carson, ‘Grief Lessons: Four Plays By Euripides’

[weltenwellen]

Anaïs Nin, The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1923–1927

[weltenwellen]

Anthony Thomas Lombardi, from "self-portrait as murmuration"

[moonmerkee]

speech by some cool ass Princeton professor

[metamorphesque]

think about how there’s no such thing as a complete touch—only the illusion of it… think about how you’re moved and affected and scarred and scratched and bruised and kissed and bitten by a mere illusion… think about how you’re saved from the real thing… think about how you’re bereaved of the real thing