Everything taken will break in your hands.

Hi there. This is my (mostly) b&w blog, it's pretty much depressing shit I don't want on my main blog. TWs: blood/gore, self harm, anxiety/panic mentions, suicidal thoughts/images. Keep on rockin' on. \m/

[sunrisethoughts02]

i look at things, objects, faces -- my cat purring in the sunbeam, trees bowing in the wind, the stranger laughing on the train -- and i say to myself, a good thing. a good thing. a good thing. not i am good, or even i take joy in this thing. i understand that joy is fluid and difficult to pin down. i understand i will not always be able to find it. but i know that this -- this good thing -- it exists. there is joy in the world even on the days i cannot feel it for myself. the world is composed of good things. we breathe together.

[oh-thedrugs]

Remembering tender moments with terrible people is one of the most bittersweet feelings I've ever experienced. Sitting on the same street I was born and my grandmother died and I 'slept' in an overcrowded hotel room for the first time. The same street i first went to school on, the street I watched the fuckin twin towers fall on, the street my school bus drove down every morning. Is one of the most bittersweet feelings. I played with kittens and it brought someone so much joy they thought they wanted to love me. They brought me back to the place where I was born to lose something sacred. They shamed me for it on the way home. They gave me a kitten. A broken, sweet thing. A comfort, an anchor, a child I've had to leave behind. My dad and I used to eat lunch along this stretch of highway, spend Fridays in a restaurant I'm afraid to step foot in lest those feelings chew me up and spit me out I'm sad. And I'm angry. I'm empty and I've forgiven and I'm happy and fulfilled. I've learned here. I've loved here. I've lived here, and died here, and I have the audacity to claim another city. But I've lived there too. Died there too. Swum in this feeling until my limbs locked up and I sank but I'm still here I think. I think I'm still here. But I don't know if I want to be.

[oh-thedrugs]

There's no way to Kermit yourself without hurting someone else and I think that's fucking wack

[naokaueno-deactivated20230709]

[quotemadness]

“It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”

— Chuck Palahniuk

[remanence-of-love]

[xotwod-lonelystargirl]

[mangaworld]

[narukee]

[catswilleatyou]

wings

[niimph]

“You had all the gentleness of flowers in your heart, in your hair, in your gaze.”

— Nikos Engonopoulos, from “Bolívar, a Greek Poem,” wr. c. June 1943

[percsaine]

[leonardospoetry]

Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved. They’re meant to be lived.

[kenozwrld]

I can admit that I haven’t been myself lately but it’ll get better.

[lesbiancolumbo]

Kay Francis, 1931. Photograph by Everett.

[patchworkquiltedbutterflychair]

Andrea & Nicoletta Branzi, Furniture for the Maggia Valley (early 20th c.) 

from Domestic Animals (pub. 1987)

[ehoradote]

Josephine Baker, Gardner, 1938 

Josephine Baker tending her garden at the Chateau des Milandes, her home from 1937 to 1969