the immensity of existing things

[thelonerforlife]

“All of a sudden it seemed to me as though I, the solitary one, had been forsaken by the whole world, and that the whole world would have nothing to do with me.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

[funeral]

Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

[perfectquote]

“I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all.”

— Anne Sexton

[khachkars]

Nausea - Jean-Paul Sartre

[antoniopalmerini]

18e arrondissement

[toiich]

— Fyodor Dostoevsky

[theveryleastperson]

I’m starting to be able to feel things again. It always starts with getting my sadness back.

[theveryleastperson]

Your absence never leaves me alone.

[marejadilla]

"My story isn't pleasant, it's not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves". ~ Hermann Hesse, "Demian"

[antoniopalmerini]

In july

[strykerlancer-deactivated202405]

“I was tired of asking myself questions. The words came to pieces in my mind: love, understanding, disagreement—they were noises, devoid of meaning. Had they ever had any?”

— Simone de Beauvoir, from “The Woman Destroyed.”

[moradadabeleza]

HANNES CASPAR

[thedepressedkiddo]

“There is such terrible vacancy in my thoughts lately. It is not a lack of feeling. It is something darker, it is something else. There is pure vacancy in there, do you understand? It is pure. And I am scared.”

— Anne Sexton, from “A Self-Portrait In Letters.”

[antoniopalmerini]

Overcoats

[trees-and-planets]

— Albert Camus, The Possessed

[seemoreandmore]

The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not. The trade winds blow me, and I do not know where the land is; the waves fold over each other; they are in love with themselves; sleeping in their own skin; and I float over them and I do not know about tomorrow.  - Anne Sexton, from a letter to W.D. Snodgrass

[surqrised]

“Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.”

— Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund