I'm a lover without a love.

Mara. Lonely girl. Addicted to a certain kind of sadness. "If there are junk yards in hell, love is the dog that guards the gates"

[an-ruraiocht]

how it feels to be online these days

[theburnthatkeepseverything]

I feel so bad lately and I'm not even trying anymore. I need a place out of my head

[vintageeveryday]

An 18th century travel female urinal with an eye portrait and the inscription “Ha je te vois petit coquin,” which roughly translates to “Ha! I see you, little rascal.”

[retroactivebakeries]

#there it is… the icup

[kortamisha]

Carolyn Bessette Kennedy by Bruce Weber

[theburnthatkeepseverything]

I was used to everyone seeing me as a burden. (...) they all wanted me to get better, but it’s not as if they enjoyed my company. (...) I still felt like this very worthless, pathetic person, you know, like I was just a waste of everyone’s time.

Sally Rooney, Conversations with friends.

[lifeinpoetry]

“It is August: the true ending of a year. I’ve grown sick from trying to love who I am.”

— Carlie Hoffman, from “High Bridge Park,” published in Gulf Stream

[heavenlycreatures]

Romania, 1997 (photo taken by my mother)

[lucielovekj]

Ppl will be like “end the stigma around mental illness uwu” but still judge you if you’re unemployed or single or not completely self-sufficient or healthy or perfectly groomed or still live with parents and don’t see the hypocrisy in that whatsoever

[archae-heart-deactivated2021012]

those of us born in loss only trust the light

[xxspookyevexx-deactivated202203]

[sarhoskedi-deactivated20210706]

[syntaxonomy]

“I want to sleep with you – to fall asleep and to sleep… Simply – sleep. And nothing further. No, also: to burrow my head into your left shoulder, my arm on your right shoulder – and nothing further. No, also: to know even in the deepest sleep that it is you. And also: to hear how your heart resounds. And – to kiss your heart.”

— - Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke

[dozydawn]

Stroboscopic photographs of the New York City Ballet’s production of Jewels, 1967. Photographed by Gjon Mili.

[4mk]

Source: https://t.co/A49ou3j0lr

[holliesgolightly]

[lifeinpoetry]

I wanted to be loved more than I wanted to be alive. For so long

I thought not to be loved is good but to be loved is to be good.

All those years, convinced — surely I must be bad, the way you keep punishing me.

— Leila Chatti, from “Faulty,” published in Prairie Schooner

[russiansandgod]