air cleared. we are intact.

love is a thought born from desire, a faithless cry for hope, a dream made out of grief, a memory falling into oblivion.

[maviyenot]

[mournfulroses]

Sylvia Plath, from The Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath; "Three Women,"

[leoreturns-deactivated20110811]

[heidi8]

leoreturns:

I have been waiting all year to post this.

Will it hit a million notes today?

[heidi8]

Will it hit 2 million notes today?

[geryone]

Blud, Rachel McKibbens

[road0flife]

[goddessactuality]

also how culture works

[chillpotato]

Sylvia Plath

[spivity]

what day in march sylvia,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,sylvia please,,,,,,,,,,,what day in march

[anxietyproblem]

[shebitesgodinthewrist]

[usercranium]

You may see in her all of your greatest fears squeezed into one person. I spent most of her childhood praying she would not end up like me. But she turned out to be stubborn, aimless, just like her mother. But now I see. It's okay that she's a mess. Because just like me the universe gave her someone kind, patient and forgiving to make up for all she lacks.

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE 2022 | dir. Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert

[flowerytale]

Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Ann Davidow-Goodman, featured in The Letters Of Sylvia Plath Volume I: 1940–1956

[Text ID: I know I’ll always think of you with something like hurt and nostalgia―and a great deal of love.]

[oscar-isaac]

BRENDAN FRASER & KE HUY QUAN The 95th Academy Awards (March 12, 2023)

[sereen-b]

[whrethelightis]

C. C.

[1000drawings]

[girlfictions]

— clarice lispector, the stream of life

[whrethelightis]

01:23 a.m.

Sleep appears like an old friend to me. Like someone I don't know how to talk to anymore but want to come close and ask them questions, catch up with lost time.

I wonder why I need to be awake so late, when everything's dark, when there's no noise to distract me, when there's no evidence of the life surrounding me.

In my own company, I feel loneliness. In my own breathing, I hear death. I want to remember what it's like to close my eyes and not be afraid of the burst. I want to hold on to this moment for a little longer than my sleep, only so I can do what I want to do and not what I have to do.

I am tired of surviving, but every breath I take reminds me of the bravery of keeping my eyes open. I'm not ready for tomorrow to come, I'm not ready to let go of yesterday. But the sun raises up each morning And I let it pull me out of bed So effortlessly, like I'm not even there like it isn’t me, it isn’t me, it wasn’t me

[weltenwellen]

Franny Choi, from “Catastrophe is Next to Godliness”