imagine someone thinking about you before they sleep
no sorry I can’t hang out I’m busy feeling nothing and then feeling everything all at once and getting too overwhelmed
“I am so tired I could lie down among the trees until I was nothing,”— Lynn Emanuel, from “After Your Letter of Elegant Goodbye,” featured in “When She Named Fire: An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry by American Women,”
i think the fact that pink is a color is so nice like we really get to enjoy that in life
staring at my own spotify library like im narcissus staring at myself in the water
pure:
On a basic conceptual level our society doesn’t want women to know that lesbianism is even a possibility. It’s seen as a threat when women assert their lesbianism, but love between women is fundamentally trivialized and the intention is to make it appear that way so that aforementioned threat never arises. I remember when I told my mama I was a homo the first thing she said was “It’s normal to think women are pretty” and “I love my female friends” in an attempt to trivialize my love for women. It was only until I asserted myself as being very much romantically involved with women in a way that was incompatible with heterosexuality that she broke out into hysterics lol. It makes me wonder how many women are living unhappy lives because lesbianism is abstracted and isolated so far away from women as a mere conceptual reality.
I feel so much safer whenever gnc folks are around. butches, effeminate gay men, androgynous nonbinary folks, unapologetic visibly trans folks, thank all of you for just existing and walking around and making public spaces feel more like home
being mentally ill is so embarrasing how can you explain to a normal person that you had to psych yourself up for half an hour to like get off the floor
(…) All my life, I’ve been going around waiting for something. All my life, in fact, I’ve felt as if… as if I were waiting in a railway station. And I’ve always felt as if… as if the living I’ve done so far hasn’t actually been real life but a long wait for it…a long wait for something real (…)
Andrei Tarkovsky, fragment from the script of “The Sacrifice”, 1986