will i remember this in a few months? probably not. and i know this. so why does it upset me so much now? how do you lift your mind out of the present and drop it into the future?
RMH
Claire Keane
Sade Olutola

Kaledo Art
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if i look back, i am lost
Xuebing Du

ellievsbear
we're not kids anymore.
i don't do bad sauce passes

Origami Around

★
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
DEAR READER

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wallacepolsom
Misplaced Lens Cap
Monterey Bay Aquarium

titsay
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@waitingfordoomsday
will i remember this in a few months? probably not. and i know this. so why does it upset me so much now? how do you lift your mind out of the present and drop it into the future?
Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf
— Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Mary Oliver, I don't want to live a small life, from Red Bird
“One day the sadness will end.
But I don’t think today’s the day.”
David Lynch
"The thing I'm most afraid of is me. Of not knowing what I'm going to do. Of not knowing what I'm doing right now."
- Haruki Murakami
i don't remember how to express myself
i don't remember how to have real fun
i don't remember how to be present
i am a robot in a world where we stare at robots all day and have robots in our hands and underneath our feet and in our ears
where is the sound of the earth?
The Pomegranate Trees, William Saroyan
if you wanted to, you would
Ottessa Moshfegh, Eileen
v important: there is a difference between feeling needed and valued
Thinking about if I’m the same person I always was, how much I’ve changed. I feel like the voice in my head has always felt consistent. Like a recognizable tone and tenor and style. And I think that is enough to say I’m the same person ive always been
it still comes as a surprise that closeness cannot be achieved from a safe distance
running errands like kurt vonnegut
⬆️ like so
Also, as I was finding, this dimming season sharpens one. The trees are bare. Spirits stir in the stripped branches. November supposedly renders thin the veil.
Louise Erdrich, from 'The Sentence'
― E.M. Forster, Howards End
[text ID: The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.]