物の哀れ

a tarde talvez fosse azul não houvesse tantos desejos

[opossum-handz]

[lelif]

on survival

-// @aridante // @orivu // @buzzkillgirls // ? // ? // richard siken// @cemeterything // moomin, tove jansson// @disenchanted-killjoy // isn't that enough, shawn mendes// @ prettytheyswag on twitter// @ coletyumuch on twitter// ? // ? // bird by bird, anne lamott// undertale// @strawberrycircuits

[blobdylan]

sometimes we are childish. sometimes we do something our 16 year old self would have done, think something our 11 year old self would have thought, cry like our 7 year old self would have cried. why is this so embarrassing? why does it make us feel such shame? when you’re 20, 30, 40, are you not also every age you’ve been before? do all of your previous incarnations not still live inside of you?

[thecollectibles]

Art by Denis Istomin

[phanaios]

very unfortunate there isn't really any other way the past is gone forever you have to get up everyday and live yourself a new life you arent really ready for and the future is always far away except when it whooshes past like a plastic bag by your windows when youre going 80 miles per hour in the highway when you should be going 50 but you cant really slow down right know or youll stop you know yourself too well so you keep going faster and faster it doesnt really matter if they never get you you wake up everyday and today im ready im ready the past is gone its turned into a little crumpled aluminum ball it is hard and rough but you swallowed it you swallowed it and it is inside of you now it has to get out some day your friends say with a worried look on their faces but youre not worried youre not worried anymore the sirens in the horizon are only in your imagination and youll never run out of gas you are bright you are the sun you are the sun in your eyes you are the sun in the rear mirrors the sun is everywhere you are everywhere and one day it will be night and it will be cold but right now you are alive and you will keep going

[anton--rayne]

the anti lgbt sentiment goes that lgbt people were formed by their perverted & psychologically disordered life experiences, going against their original ontological hegemonically sexed self, so the pro lgbt narratives commonly go "this is actually our ontological self too! we were not formed by our life in anyway" when truth of the matter is everyone was formed by their perverted traumatic life

[remnantglow]

a kind of poem (?) about the cosmic microwave background

[389]

by Roger Haus

[sashayed]

anyway, we get up, we make the bed, we feed the pets, we try to let kindness guide our encounters with the world, we scream and scream and scream and scream until it turns into manic laughter, we feed ourselves, we water the plants, etc

[remanence-of-love]

[evcrmoreee]

me too bro me too

[piratemadi]

i love you ambiguous endings i love you pyrrhic victories i love you tragedy masquerading as a happy ending i love you characters who are living and dead at the same time i love you cognitive dissonance i love you existential death

[astranemus]

Your body is an ancestor. Your body is an altar to your ancestors. Every one of your cells holds an ancient and anarchic love story. Around 2.7 billion years ago free-living prokaryotes melted into one another to form the mitochondria and organelles of the cells that build our bodies today. All you need to do to honor your ancestors is to roll up like a pill bug, into the innate shape of safety: the fetal position. The curl of your body, then, is an altar not just to the womb that grew you, but to the retroviruses that, 200 million years ago taught mammals how to develop the protein syncytin that creates the synctrophoblast layer of the placenta. Breathe in, slowly, knowing that your breath loops you into the biome of your ecosystem. Every seven to ten years your cells will have turned over, rearticulated by your inhales and exhales, your appetites and proclivity for certain flavors. If you live in a valley, chances are the ancient glacial moraine, the fossils crushed underfoot, the spores from grandmotherly honey fungi, have all entered into and rebuilt the very molecular make up of your bones, your lungs, and even your eyes. Even your lungfuls of exhaust churn you into an ancestor altar for Mesozoic ferns pressurized into the fossil fuels. You are threaded through with fossils. Your microbiome is an ode to bacterial legacies you would not be able to trace with birth certificates and blood lineages. You are the ongoing-ness of the dead. The alembic where they are given breath again. Every decision, every idea, every poem you breathe and live is a resurrection of elements that date back to the birth of this universe itself. Today I realize that due to the miracle of metabolic recycling, it is even possible that my body, somehow, holds the cells of my great-great grandmother. Or your great-great grandmother. Or that I am built from carbon that once intimately orchestrated the flight of a hummingbird or a pterodactyl. Your body is an ecosystem of ancestors. An outcome born not of a single human thread, but a web of relations that ripples outwards into the intimate ocean of deep time.

Your Body is an Ancestor, Sophie Strand

[profoundgaiety-deactivated20200]

From Salem’s 1982 yearbook.

[bluevelvia]

Holly Black, The Prisoner's Throne

[typodescript]

[text: "I want," she says. "That's my problem. I want and I want and I want."

"What do you want?" he asks, voice soft.

"Everything. Charm me. Rip me open. Ruin me. Go too far."]

[toskarin]

medieval peasant: I see... so, it is the case that there are many paintings within this magical book? it is not so strange after all.

me, trying to show him tumblr to scare him: I was kind of hoping this would be a bit more confusing to you

peasant, suddenly pointing at the screen: hark! cynocephali

[imagefragrance]

i think about this poem every day

[narcissistcookbook]

a five year old note among my 1588 saved notes that just reads: four-dimensional salmon

[narcissistcookbook]

OH WAIT I REMEMBER WHAT THAT MEANT

a higher-dimensional creature whose life cycle involves 'swimming upstream' backwards through time from the end of the universe to their spawning site at the birth of the universe