Bookish Moon-child•Dark-Space aesthetic

I take a look through the cafés at the last sights, Of a world that has gone very wrong for me.

[an0neemouse]

If you think what you're writing is above your skill level, do it anyway. You might surprise yourself in what you are able to do, and even if you don't, the experience is worth it. Write, and write, and write some more. You can always re-write it when your skill increases. But your skill level will never increase if you don't challenge yourself and above all else-- write.

[svdcvnt]

“I Can Fix It”

Artist: Justin Novak 🪡

[fragile-things-archive]

“selfishly, i want this life.

selfishly, i want it with you.

i want late sunday mornings in bed, and i want them in your bed, and i want you in my bed, blanketed by the soft light that shines in, by the gentle songs of birds, by an open window, that lets in a sweet-smelling breeze that tells us that spring is almost here.

i want another spring with you, i want another year with you.

i want everything this life will offer me, i want to see what it will offer you. i want what takes shape in its molding, what each of us becomes in its unfolding. i want the cracks that will emerge, i want every hardened, and broken, and ugly piece that we hide away from the world.

i want to laugh and cry again with you, i want to do it all over again with you.

i open my hands to the earth. i hope for the weight of your hands in mine.

selfishly, i want to be alive.

selfishly, i want it to be you.”

@kiisuuumii original author // tumblr repost

[summercoldd]

If you look closely at any "happy" marriage that exists, you will observe it involves the woman having made significant compromises against her individuality and freedom (while the man remains the same)

[inthemoodforblastt]

Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen, written and directed by women, basically portrays marriage as a life-or-death curse, with an absolutely suffocating atmosphere from the very beginning. If women aren’t stuck in dysfunctional marriages, then they’re dealing with a terminal illness and dying on their wedding day or they’re Rachel, having anxiety attacks from the moment it becomes real that she’s getting married that weekend. Marriage and the expectations surrounding it, from a female perspective, as psychological horror. Dear God, it’s pure female gaze ecstasy. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this series.

[forevermsj]

"I AM NOT THE RUIN THAT MADE ME" I was just a girl, small against the vast and merciless world, whispering wishes into a starless sky, begging for anything—anyone—to pull my mind from the quiet hell I called home. Maybe I wanted to be saved. Maybe I wanted a witness. Maybe I just wanted to feel like I wasn’t fading. Why did I feel this way? Anger. Pain. Fear. Despair. A darkness bloomed inside me, thick as swamp fog, clinging to my ribs. The demons in my head—sharp‑tongued, serpent‑slick—dragged their claws through every tender place I tried to protect. They named themselves my masters. They made me kneel. They made me doubt the shape of my own shadow. “Fuck you,” I whispered to the girl in the mirror. Through fractured glass, golden‑brown eyes stared back—wide, sleepless, haunted. My trembling hands tangled in my wild curls as if trying to pull the storm out by the roots. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” My throat burned with the echo of my own voice. My skull felt like a hurricane had taken up residence inside it, spinning, spinning, spinning until I couldn’t tell where the wind ended and I began. “No one would miss you,” he used to say. “Why are you still here? You’ll never be anything.” Through the broken mirror, I watched myself laugh—a hollow, cracked sound—while tears carved rivers down my cheeks. I laughed because I believed him. I laughed because cruelty had become my lullaby. I laughed because I didn’t know any other language. His words were cannon fire, each one splintering something soft inside me. Over time, the shrapnel became familiar. Expected. Normal. I heard things a girl should never hear. I learned lessons no woman should ever be taught. I mistook harm for devotion. I mistook survival for love. I was supposed to learn what tenderness looked like. Instead, I learned to brace for impact. I learned to shrink. I learned to disappear. But I am not a body to be used. I am not a vessel for someone else’s rage. I am not a ghost in my own life. I am not worthless. I am not crazy. I am not the names they spit when their tempers flare. What I am is powerful. What I am is beautiful in the way storms are beautiful—dangerous, electric, impossible to ignore. What I am is desirable, clever, sharp, and rising. What I am is perfectly imperfect, stitched together with firelight and stubborn hope. What I am is a woman who deserves a love that does not draw blood—a love that holds without haunting, a love that warms instead of wounds. <3 the unusual woman <3, xoxo

[themooninthestars]

[goth-queen]

[gremlininho]

[best-chaotic-neutral]

I didn’t give it a chance

[goth-queen]

[vamplire]

anne rice was an icon. imagine having your oc’s be the vampire lestat, the vampire armand and THE louis de pointe du lac. groundbreaking

[hermoonlit-world]

The ways I want to be loved;

A crowded room and his eyes never leave mine type of a love, his hands always, Always no matter where no matter who’s around finds its way into mine, words spoken like it’s still those days when we’re yet in the moments of falling into love, eyes that look like there’s no one more important than me, secret notes scrawled in tissues and post its, vulnerable conversations, check in messages, random gifts small but yet big in meanings. I want to be loved in a way that it’s beautiful and when you see it I want to be told “I see the way he looks at you, the way he lights up. He really loves you, you can just see it in his eyes” type of love.

[limerencs]

oh to be consumed by books to the point i forget reality exists

[remanence-of-love]

[vamplire]

the level of comfortability society has with women being in pain disgusts me. expected to go through pregnancy with a myriad of symptoms feeling like shit but if we show one ounce of discomfort (also during periods) we’re demanding. then going through labour & birth where women actually shame other women for asking for a bit of relief during the process (epidural) meanwhile their husbands act the same way although they get hysterical over a headache. also don’t get me started on the expectation to rip out every follicle of hair on our HUMAN bodies cyclically & for what lmfao? it’s shameful that some women are so deeply rooted in patriarchal standards of beauty that they think ur dirty for not complying with them meanwhile mans over there has a whole forest. not even gonna talk about how our pain gets dismissed regularly by doctors especially reproductive health bc i’m fed the fuck up.

[professionalintrovert]

Gustave Flaubert, from a letter to Louise Colet

[random-xpressions]

When Kafka said: "She was never mine, just my favourite illusion."

When Dostoevsky said: "Even illusions became real when she smiled."

And I say: "I was dead all along until she arrived. Illusion & reality aside, she is the very epitome for life!"

Random Xpressions