their hearts are savage

she slipped away when she thought she wouldn't be missed.

[niteowljoe]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

She gave a single, long, full-throated howl, as if she wanted to rid herself at once of all the cries that pain had stored up in her.

Albert Camus, from “The First Man,” originally published c. 1994 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[maplebungus-deactivated20221118]

loose, foot loose, put on your fuckin foot loose, feet, foot feet, dance on your fucking feet

[powerfrogarchive-deactivated201]

[justyourukht-deactivated2018111]

damn this got me..

[jehovahhthickness]

Years****

[dankmemesreasonforliving]

[softwaring]

[dankmemesreasonforliving]

[insomniac-arrest]

non-gendered alternative to ‘welcome ladies and gentlemen’

[showerthoughts-lol]

When medication says "do not operate heavy machinery" they're probably mainly referring to cars, but my mind always goes to forklift.

[rebelmeg]

My mine has literally NEVER gone to cars.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

If my life is to improve, I must concentrate above all on these two things: strength and conscience. I must learn to grasp and hold; I must learn to feel my own feelings.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Lou Salomé witten c. October 1904 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[josephskeerys]

[kjdfkjfkjf-deactivated20180811]

[anxietyproblem]

[thebootydiaries]

Person: what’s wrong?

Me: nothing…

Me internally: why did that man honk at me in the intersection between 52nd St and 3rd Ave on January 4th 2015

[unbotheredmuse]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Shall a soul visit her mutilated parts?

Meena Alexander, from Raw Silk: Poems; “Pitfire,” published c. 2004 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[savagehearts]

Reading

after avoiding it for quite some time. Not sure why I do that. The book is The Burning Girl and it isn’t the best book I’ve read, it’s not near it, but it feels so familiar. The description of the dissolved friendship, the holding on to youth and wanting to pretend far beyond the years when it’s “appropriate” to pretend. The humiliation of being a teenage girl whose body defies her constantly. The yearning to fit in somewhere, to have a person or people who get you and looking into the future for when you’ll finally be the person you want to be. I’ve never really reached that final form, and I don’t think I ever will. It makes me comfortable and uncomfortable. I put those times away. I wrote my own narrative where I was the victim, I was left behind, I wasn’t wanted. That’s the way I tell my own story, but is it really correct? I need to go back and visit myself then and sit with those feelings and those moments and those memories that make me who I am or who I made myself become.

“Each of us shapes our stories so they make sense of who we think we are.”