— Sylvia Plath, from “Johnny Panic & The Bible Of Dreams.”
will byers stan first human second
One Nice Bug Per Day

#extradirty
Claire Keane
sheepfilms
Show & Tell
Three Goblin Art
hello vonnie
h

@theartofmadeline
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
almost home
Mike Driver
macklin celebrini has autism

JBB: An Artblog!
RMH
wallacepolsom

ellievsbear
todays bird
Cosmic Funnies

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Argentina
seen from Argentina

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan

seen from Germany
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@scntisms
— Sylvia Plath, from “Johnny Panic & The Bible Of Dreams.”
— Elena Ferrante, from “The Story of a New Name.”
It’s okay to be pretentious, just don’t forget to also be tacky.
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
[text ID: The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.]
Imo it's way too hard to fake your own death nowadays
Fortesa Latifi, from The Truth About Grief.
Muse Music Association!
Say how many songs are in your muse's playlist and let people send you a number from one to whatever the total number is, then explain why that song is in their playlist!
not to be that guy but girls will read lemony snicket’s love letter to end all love letters ONCE and then have strange ideas abt romance forever
this did something to my brain
Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body
*avoids sadness and pain with self-destructive behavior* :~)
Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me
g*d gave me two grubby little hands and one grubby little mouth for the exclusive purposes of:
1. saying the fuck word
2. rude gestures at authority figures
“are you okay” no, next question
i express my emotions in long groans at different octaves
am i dramatic yes is it justified also yes
are you...okay?
You ever see your hands? Feel them. Pay attention to the skin, the bone, the flex of muscle. The twitches of fiber, the drawing of muscle cords that raise and lower your fingers. Can you feel it? Can you sense the slow atrophy, the steady expense of energy – can you sense yourself dying? You’re crumbling into dust. The earth waits for you to return.
But it is not bravery; I have no choice. I wake up and live my life. Don’t you do the same?
Anthony Doerr (via quotemadness)