L'art pour l'art

I'm the ethereal pain you've been craving for.

[aestheteasteria]

seeking, yearning, reaching hands

[tak-tahu]

474

I have always wanted to run, far away from everything and everyone.

I paced myself and exhausted all my sources, only to realize I had been seeking your arms.

The longing for shelter, your promises of safety. Even if everything was untrue — I stayed.

Hoping that one day you would actually save me from myself.

[killyridols]

the slit you made by sang woo kim, 2024, oil on canvas, unknown dimensions

[tak-tahu]

473

I have to lose almost everything in order to find a piece of myself back.

[dolutufegiterstut]

[tak-tahu]

472

The thought of uncertainty nauseated me. I was aware that there were greater truths I could not yet access, and that awareness enraged me. I wanted the knowledge of someone who had lived to one hundred. Instead, I was only twenty-five — an unfinished fraction of that lifetime.

I stood as a spectator, watching gladiators strike one another — blood, sweat, and tears spilling into the sand. My refusal to participate was not fear, nor cowardice. It was the unbearable knowledge that I did not yet understand the rules of the arena, yet I was being forced into it.

Most wounds bleed outward. Mine imploded. The thread I held was thin and fragile, a reminder of what minuscule feels like.

[mournfulroses]

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a poem titled "As unforgettable as you’re forgetful," featured in Moscow in the Plague Years: Poems

[tak-tahu]

471

Some days, a little before afternoon, I am awake from my poor sleep. Eyes open, looking at the ceiling--I see nothing but big globs of color. My glasses are missing. Sadness crashes over me like waves hitting the shore. Tears roll down my cheeks as I try to make sense of what is real or not.

I am my own vessel of verisimilitude.

[kocalls]

[calebsane]

peace like a river flows

[gumuhit]

unaligned (2016)

[smyd]

Babe are you alright I saw you reblogged “Unaligned (2016)”

[gumuhit]

😭

[sheiskindasweet]

[tak-tahu]

470

A depression is like a plague.

There were too many of us infected by it. All the fingers raised, and we wouldn't be able to count it all.

You sit around long enough to realize you’ve drowned.

And no matter how much sleep you get there’s this unending feeling of tiredness. If you're lucky, you'll pass to either mundane or death.

"La tristesse durera toujours"

[unreadable]

[tak-tahu]

469

I cursed the wind that took you.

Around this time of year—on Christmas Eve—we sat across from each other as you told me you had fallen in love all over again.

I shrugged my shoulders, the wind is howling out—the sushi is cold. In depths of your words I found nothing but honesty.

I swallowed the bitter pill, for you were the one;

who violated me the most.

Happiness, was only a brink: a fragile moment where I felt safe, even while living inside my own Stockholm syndrome.

[wordx]

i think humans are meant to lay in bed with the love of their life all winter.

[xanaxfarts]

‘Heart and Dagger’ by Robert Mapplethorne for Helmut Lang (1982)

[tak-tahu]

468

Back when chivalry was well and alive, most gentlemen would carry a handkerchief in their pockets—and yours was white.

However, it was not a meet cute. I was sitting on the passenger seat, with snot ran from my nose to my mouth, down to the clefts of my chin. I sobbed as if there were no tomorrow. I didn’t dare look at you—certain I would find disgust. Not now. Not tomorrow. But one day.

Yet you took the cloth, and simply placed it into my palm.

I turned my gaze away from your eyes. Not from fear of judgment— But because I feared I would beg you to stay, and inevitably, as all love and all lives do, become one with the wind.