winter has come once again to teach me things i don’t want to know about myself
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Sweet Seals For You, Always

pixel skylines
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
trying on a metaphor

PR's Tumblrdome
$LAYYYTER

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⁂
Claire Keane
occasionally subtle

#extradirty
Mike Driver
Keni
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

★
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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DEAR READER

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@xhazymind
winter has come once again to teach me things i don’t want to know about myself
running yourself into the ground because it "feels good" but actually because it secretly feels bad like a cheese grater against all the soft bits of your mind and running yourself into the ground specifically because it feels very bad and right now the roadrash will give some kind of visual effect to the rest of the experience of your suffering and running yourself into the ground because you were raised religious and/or with strict parents and now you feel like you need an excuse any time you burn out or else it's not burnout it's laziness and running yourself into the ground so you can be really sure it's actually depression and not just because you ate something suspicious
and running yourself into the ground because the back of your throat tastes like rotted fish and yet everybody wants you to get up and make a pretty dance about it and running yourself into the ground like a matchstick because if you're going to have to be here you want to blaze about it and running yourself into the ground like a darkened landing strip so the plane wheels spark up and your hometown finally disappears in the distance good fucking riddance
and running yourself into the ground because of some fucked up great-great-grandparent's hard work aesthetic and because you somehow owe it to your parents, who owed it to their own parents, because owing things is normal in your family, like love is a cost-value analysis and running yourself into the ground and getting up and pretending that, like, this isn't burning the candle at both ends. two days is plenty to get back into it.
you're not spiraling, you're just manifesting wealth and happiness. you're not spiraling, the radio in your chest just has low batteries. what do you mean that's the sound of distress. when they went out looking, they never found your pilot. you haven't been in this body for years now. you found yourself and put her into a box and then put her up on a shelf. she's still safe up there and she's still a kid.
running yourself into the ground and the constant knowledge: you don't even know where you're going and you don't like the experience. but where ever it is: you're not there yet.
You are going to laugh until your stomach hurts again. You're going to be in awe of a sunset. Watch your favorite show while you eat your favorite food. Find money on the street. Discover a great band you haven't heard of before. You will find your way back.
“Unbody me–I’m tired–and get me home.”
— Ralph Hodgson, from Eve, And Other Poems (1913); “The Moor,” (via feestje)
Something about being at the absolute bottom feels like home
there will always be other chances. at jobs, at educational progress, at relationships, at friendships. if you messed up at something, it’s not the end of the world. you’ll always have new opportunities in all areas of life.
“It sucks that we miss people like that. You think you’ve accepted that someone is out of your life, that you’ve grieved and it’s over, and then bam. One little thing, and you feel like you’ve lost that person all over again.”
— Rachel Hawkins; Demonglass
– Virginia Woolf, from a Letter to Violet Dickinson written c. January 1909
[TEXT ID: "I appreciate your concern. None of this is your fault. It's me. It's me and my head. / In winter, I collapse." END ID]
spring horror is good because of the symbolism of death and rebirth and storms and everything being vibrant but still cold. and summer horror is good because sweltering heat and insects long days. and fall horror is good because halloween and death and scary movies. and winter horror is good because snow contrasting with blood and freezing temperatures and long nights. btw.
Clarice Lispector, from The Hour of the Star
“Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.”
— W. S. Merwin, Separation
musings on february
Hussein Chalayan (?), Franz Kafka (@shi-saa), Anne Magill, Bing Hua, Anne Magill, Margaret Atwood, Anne Magill, Dorothy Livesay, Anne Magill, Alice McDermott, Hussein Chalayan
buy me a coffee