New York City, 1950s © Andre Robe/yellowkorner
oh ciao tumblr, dopo due anni torno a dare un’occhiata e tirar via un po’ di polvere
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@pathein
New York City, 1950s © Andre Robe/yellowkorner
oh ciao tumblr, dopo due anni torno a dare un’occhiata e tirar via un po’ di polvere
Rogelio de Egusquiza - Tristan and Isolt (Death)
“In order to write about life first you must live it.”
— Ernest Hemingway (via goodreadss)
Johan Christian Dahl (Norwegian, 1788-1857) - Dresden by Moonlight
George Wesley Bellows (American, 1882-1925) - Tumble of Waters, 1913
a day.
I walked alone in the forest, quite scared but feeling okay. I tried to live the moment. I tried to burn my breakfast and lunch with little success, got scared by the ton of cheese in the sandwich, walked again and almost got lost.
I returned to the small hotel where I’m staying, drank an infusion and took a long warm shower, I brushed my teeth. Still not okay with my skin and body. Got in my soft bed, too big for me, and kept scrolling Instagram, telling myself that I’ve been brave to eat today even if I binged yesterday.
I still have no idea of the person I want to be, and who am I, really. Where I want to live and work, if I love my boyfriend or not, if I still have good friends.
Am I worth being loved if I don’t love myself?
Some hours is ok. I like myself and I even took one selfie, looking in the mirror and feeling that I’m not as fat as I was one year and a half ago.
Do I really want to get better?
Ascolto i m83 come preludio di una serata dove non potrò sbronzarmi. Mi sembra di essere in piedi dall’inizio del mondo, di trascinarmi dietro una stanchezza ingombrante. E via ancora col cibo, con le maledette calorie, cercando di macinare chilometri a piedi. Andrà tutto alla grandissima. Stordita dall’insicurezza e dalla fame, perché no?
“If you ever left me I’d tear my heart out and never put it back.”
Paterson (2016) dir. Jim Jarmusch
I’m always a slut for deep conversations and exploring our feelings at 1am
stanotte ho fatto un sogno orrendo in cui continuavo a pensare alle tonnellate di roba unta che ho mangiato in questi due giorni. prima di andare a dormire il pensiero era così forte che mi stava venendo da piangere. non è così facile gestire due personcine rompipalle che si azzuffano dentro di me.
shut up!