“Solitude is dangerous. It’s very addictive. It becomes a habit after you realize how peaceful and calm it is. It’s like you don’t want to deal with people anymore because they drain your energy.”
— Jim Carrey
Noah Kahan

@theartofmadeline
Misplaced Lens Cap
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Discoholic 🪩

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Claire Keane
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Kaledo Art
official daine visual archive

Love Begins
todays bird
Sweet Seals For You, Always

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hello vonnie

titsay
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵

if i look back, i am lost
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
EXPECTATIONS
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@vegajane
“Solitude is dangerous. It’s very addictive. It becomes a habit after you realize how peaceful and calm it is. It’s like you don’t want to deal with people anymore because they drain your energy.”
— Jim Carrey
I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now. Movies and books don't tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you're left with memories of what once was. We were friends for a decade and knew each other's diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in '07.
Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?
It's been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
Edit: here's the visualizer for this piece
“I knew it wasn’t too important, but it made me sad anyway.”
— J.D. Salinger
Notting hill
Elizabeth, an avid reader, immediately snapping her book shut when Darcy says good women should read extensively is peak petty behaviour and one of my favourite parts of the movie
Self Care Tips From Tumblr: When you feel like everyone hates you, sleep. When you feel like you hate everyone, eat. When you feel like you hate yourself, shower. Someone out there feels better because you exist.
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I remember when I first started dating my now-husband in high school, and after school I’d go home and think “wow, I miss him already, I can’t wait to see him in class tomorrow,”
And then I starting driving by myself over the summer, and I’d go spend a Saturday at his house, playing video games and watching movies, and after the whole day I’d drive home and think “wow, I miss him already, I can’t wait to see him next Saturday,”
And then I went to college in a different state and the drive between us was hours instead of minutes and it was only once in a while that I could visit and we’d spend the whole weekend together and I’d drive home and think “wow, I miss him already, I can’t wait to see him next month,”
And then we both graduated and we got married and we moved in together and sometimes I can hear him getting up in the morning before sunrise and I think “wow, I miss him already, I can’t wait to see him tonight.”
My husband: *literally just stands up to go get a drink of water from the kitchen*
Me, a dumbass in love: …Miss him already, can’t wait to see him in ninety seconds.
“Well, the rain had stopped but the pain was still there.”
— Charles Bukowski
A Soulmate Who Wasn’t Meant to Be: Jess Benko
(via https://open.spotify.com/track/0gOz9JUXsaKVzLTSmFDtdo?si=qxSKdijHTIiV0HuHjKko2w)
you talked to her when we were together,
loved you at your worst but that didn't matter...
it took you two weeks to go off and date her,
guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor...
Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Abiah Root (about January 1852)
every so often i remember this poem by langston hughes & am inconsolable