ｔｗｅｎｔｙ . ｚｉｐ @twentied - Tumblr Blog

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Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus, originally published: 1977

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detail of painting by françois martin-kavel

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i love tumblr because sometimes i get an urge to rb posts about something nobody likes and everyone just politely ignores me. everyone's like oh he's fallen into madness again, he'll be fine later i guess

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Richey Edwards

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le sserafim by cho giseok

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it’s just like….. late night televangelism and government conspiracies and tight, brown secretary dresses and overwhelmed mothers who were never that pretty and grimy middle school cafeterias and schoolyard bullies and giving into violent urges and masturbating with your eyes closed and needlepoint hanging on wood paneling and never drinking or smoking except once in a blue moon because it’s a nasty habit but sometimes you just need to be nasty and collecting old books that you’ll never read because you like how pretty the spines are and being barefoot all the time and never doing anything with your hair besides letting it grow and praying at the foot of your bed once a month so you don’t forget what it was like and collecting pond water in little old bottles and liking it when the air outside is sweltering because it makes you feel high and stopping on the side of the highway to sit in the grass and stare at nothing in particular and saying hi to old people in the grocery store because you worry they feel invisible and ultimately knowing that yesterday is too new and everything you used to love gets smaller and smaller in the rearview

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Laodamia, George William Joy

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“You do not know to what extent I guard myself, and my feelings. It is strange how you get truth from me.”

— Anaïs Nin in a letter to Henry Miller, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin Henry Miller, 1932-1953

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“Call it a wild perversity or a wild optimism, but they were right, our ancestors, to celebrate what they feared. What I fear I avoid. What I fear I pretend does not exist. What I fear is quietly killing me. Would there be a festival for my fears, a ritual burning of what is coward in me, what is lost in me. Let the light in before it is too late.”

— Jeanette Winterson, “The Green Man” | The World and Other Places: Stories