ugh life

but we are made of newspaper and smoke and we dunk your roses in vats of blue var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-37799929-1']); _gaq.push(['_setDomainName', 'lisslou.tumblr.com']); _gaq.push(['_setAllowLinker', true]); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();

[hottdoggblogg]

[newspaperandsmoke]

I’m packing up my bookcase to move in with my beautiful wonderful partner and talking to a friend about, no, this isn’t the first time I’m moving in with someone and last time didn’t go so great but hey this time is a whole different person and I’m a different person and Gio is so so excited and last time I was pretty much alone in that excitement. 

And then a green notebook falls to the ground and I open it up to see what little writings I have in it and the bookmark opens to a page

Where I’m writing through the emotions of when I moved in with my ex and a week later after found stuff I wasn’t supposed to that pretty much was proof he was cheating on me and letting the other woman talk shit about me. 

And then there’s his handwriting, where he must have opened up my notebook and read what I wrote and decided to add his two cents in - that he loved me and chose me. That we needed to trust each other. 

And I’ve read this before, I’m sure, and have cried over it already and then promptly forgot where it was, what the words were. But it still hurts a bit, you know. Cause there’s the subtext that I wouldn’t have gotten at the time, that came out later - that he “chose” me - he chose the house we lived in, over the house she was looking to buy. He chose me, but did he - no, because he chose both, and in the end had neither. He chose himself, and for a while that’s what he was left with. 

Giovanni chose me the night he met me. He chooses me every day. He is always on my team. I love him so, so much. 

Life has a funny little sense of humor sometimes.

[soothifying-sounds-asmr]

[aformofhealing-deactivated20160]

[faussesapparences]

🤍

[fuckyeahanarchistposters]

‘Disinfect Your Country’

Beautiful artwork by @corinne.dodenhoff

[enfranchisement]

via prchtg on Instagram

[contemporaryobsessions-blog]

Walter Pfeiffer. 1970-1980. JRP Ringier. Artist book

[punlovsin]

[ha-roro]

ᴄᴏsᴍᴏᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ - sᴡᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ

[silkelectrics-deactivated202109]

[gnossienne]

[sunkissedandbronzed]

[sweetestsecrets]

“I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it — to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once.”

— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via thelovejournals)

[act3s]

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl2_0NolZuP/

[bronzhing]

anastasia_volkova via instagram

[makeuphall]

[1000drawings]