No Love, However Brief, Is Wasted.

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath; entry no. 102

youre weirdly obsessed with finding meaning

I get notifications from my gf posting here and as I'm jobless now I can see them as soon as they are posted 🥰

they invented a new low just for me

— Susan Sontag, from “Death Kit,” (1967) (via lunamonchtuna)

Friend going back to uk, went there with another friend, got back, eating kfc now and then going for brutalist, Les gooooo!!!!!

Also you know the answer, we both are fools for each other<3

Feeling better now :)

and this isn't coherent at all but im just thinking about. well aira died. for like 10 minutes she was dead. you see this child who's seen death at such a young age, you see her growing up, trying to make her mom proud, trying to be the perfect girl, and then she dies. and when she comes back there's another story like hers but on the opposite side, the weary adult side, a mirror to hers but distorted. it isn't her mom, it will never be, and all the memories of her are hazy and bright and these new memories of a life that isn't hers but could have been in some other life, these memories are dark and sharp and sting, and she's never going to see her mom again. or maybe she did, a brief glimpse in the darkness when her heart stopped beating. and that has to be enough. so she does what she has always done. she loves. and she remembers.

It's actually funny how humans decided "fuck living in caves with all these creepy crawlies", got out of caves, built houses that have all the nice parts of a cave without any of the yucky parts, and then all the little bugs and spiders and other creepy crawly creatures that used to also live in caves thought "sweet, new and improved caves" and moved right back in with us.

lowkey if u just ignore everything life is so good .... the flowers are blooming, the sun is shining!!