Night Poem, Leila Chatti
Acquired Stardust
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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sheepfilms

Love Begins

Kaledo Art
occasionally subtle
Sweet Seals For You, Always

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YOU ARE THE REASON

Discoholic 🪩
Stranger Things

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

blake kathryn
will byers stan first human second

Origami Around
Today's Document
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RMH
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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@shethinksalot
Night Poem, Leila Chatti
Anna Fusco (ig @ lordcowboy)
“People ask me, “Have you tried yoga? Kombucha? This special water?” And I don’t have the energy to explain that yes, I’ve tried them. I’ve tried crystals and healing drum circles and prayer and everything. What I want to try is acceptance. I want to see what happens if I can simply accept myself for who I am: battered, broken, hoping for relief, still enduring somehow. I will still take a cure if it’s presented to me, but I am so tired of trying to bargain with the universe for some kind of cure. The price is simply too high to live chasing cures, because in doing so, I’m missing living my life. I know only that in chasing to achieve the person I once was, I will miss the person I have become.”
Alice Wong “Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-first Century”
My nervous system wasn’t built for any of this
A Conversation with Richard Siken by Thomas Hobohm
Northern California
the two fundamental truths of historical and contemporary mankind:
we were just as smart then as we are now
we are just as stupid now as we were then
journal of an ordinary grief, mahmoud darwish
“I used to dislike being sensitive. I thought it made me weak. But take away that single trait, and you take away the very essence of who I am. You take away my conscience, my ability to empathize, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation for the little things, my vivid inner life, my deep awareness of others’ pain, and my passion for it all.”
— Unknown
I’m fighting, alone, every day. I fight with the hell that I survived. I fight with the fact of my own humanity. I fight with the idea that death is the only way of escaping this fact.
Han Kang, Human Acts (translated by Deborah Smith)
At the time, death seemed as though it would be something refreshing, like slipping on that clean new uniform. If life was the summer that had just gone by, if life was a body sullied with sweat and bloody pus, clotted seconds that refused to pass, if life was a mouthful of sour bean sprouts that only served to intensify the hunger pangs, then perhaps death would be like a clean brushstroke, erasing all such things in a single sweep.
Han Kang, Human Acts (translated by Deborah Smith)
“You have this one life. How do you wanna spend it? Apologizing? Regretting? Questioning? Hating yourself? Dieting? Running after people who don’t see you? Be brave. Believe in yourself. Do what feels good. Take risks. You have this one life. Make yourself proud.”
— Beardsley Jones