call me M

• dark academia • studyblr • art history student • pagan enthusiast •

[ftgloss]

[snupinoexiste]

“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.” ― Franz Kafka

[tesghosterone-deactivated202303]

what would kafka think if he knew that a bunch of tumblr users in the 21st century post his diary entries almost daily and call him their best friend

[idkwhattoputformyusername]

"I was written by a man." "I was written by a woman." That's cute. I was written by Kafka. My life is a horrific labyrinth of confusion, misfortune, existential dread, and chronic self-loathing.

[soracities]

“Moreover, perhaps it isn’t love when I say you are what I love the most—you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love. This, my dear, is love.”

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena (trans. Philip Boehm)

[shisasan]

𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟹, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟷 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[ID: I am different from what I am when free. END ID]

[psychoblush]

me whenever I encounter the slightest inconvenience: “this is so kafkaesque”

[hwhwgwhnwnwbwbwg-deactivated202]

“But sleep? On a night like this? What an idea! Just think of how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.”

-Franz Kafka

[rikejte-mi-m]

It's unbelievable how much can change in a year.

Last December, my chest felt hollow with pain, my heart ripped out, broken, at the feet of past lover who's never truly loved me.

This December, all is well.

I look into her eyes and feel the need to gently pick my heart out of my ribcage, like a delicate song bird, and put it in her hands. I believe all will be well.

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

“You can say anything and I will not abandon you.”

[thoughtkick]

“She didn’t need to be saved. She needed to be found and appreciated for exactly who she was.”

— j. iron word

[muresetivoire]

The problem with always being the smartest kid, who's told they'll always do amazingly and has only ever gotten straight A's, is the inability to accept failure and to accept that sometimes you have to give up.

I know my results may not be straight A's this year, but I can't stomach it. Nor have I been able to accept that I won't be able to enter med because of my illnesses.

I'm told that my strength is my writing and my speech, but I'm fearful I won't be accepted into law after these two years of pre med.

Sometimes, I truly wish that I believed that I was the smart kid that everyone - my teachers, parents, family, classmates - saw me to be.

[arealistonao3]

It really is such a complicated situation - everybody sees you as a respectable, intelligent student, and they put you on a pedestal, and seemingly you are the only one to disagree. It alienates you from yourself, creates a wedge between the real you and the you that people consider you to be. After going back and forth yoir sense of identity is lost or at least very jumbled.

I am sure though, op, that your writing and speech are stellarly amazing, and that you will be able to enter law school. I am cheering on you from this side of the screen, you got this!!

[thoughtkick]

“I hope you fall in love with someone who never lets you fall asleep thinking you’re unwanted.”

— Unknown

[obliviatedlemondrop]

someone please take me on bookstore dates, and talk with me about books, and our futures and aspirations, and then at the end we exchange our favorite books with each other, and drive home listening to music.

[rikejte-mi-m]

Time truly heals all wounds.

When you left me I didn't think that was true. But now, look at you, look at us – it's just a scar.

No longer open for you to pour salt into it.

Good.

[rikejte-mi-m]

Being an artist has made me get over you so much quicker. I could easily take my pain and create something beautiful with it.

However, it was also my love for you with which I created art.

I found your portrait recently, one I completely forgot about. It's left me startled for a moment because it made me remember your face, oh so clearly. I could see all the mistakes I did when I tried to depict you that time.

“I did what I could at the time. I accept these mistakes,” I thought to myself. And that was it, before I took some matches and set the picture ablaze as if to burn all the strings left attached.

[rikejte-mi-m]

What do I do with all this information, all these little details that once made me fall in love with you? That once made me believe you would never hurt me? What do I do with all the happy memories?

I still remember your favourite flower. Your favourite animals, real or mythic. Your favourite tea. The dress you wanted to buy, although you hate wearing dress – but you just loved it so much. I remember our late night conversations.

All these bits and pieces of you that are still in my memory – I find them unbearable.