Hopelessromantism - Rotwriting

 when sylvia plath wrote “the silence depressed me. it wasn’t the silence of silence. it was my own silence.” and when anne carson wrote “why does tragedy exist? because you are full of rage. why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief.” and when jenny slate wrote “and i am getting older but i am not growing up and my heart is getting soft dark spots on it like a fruit that has gone bad.” and when virginia woolf wrote “to want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain.” and when susanna kaysen wrote “when you’re sad, you need to hear your sorrow structured into sound.” and when margaret atwood wrote “already my childhood seemed far away – a remote age, faded and bittersweet, like dried flowers. did i regret its loss, did i want it back? i didn’t think so…” and when gillian flynn wrote “i was not a lovable child, and i’d grown into a deeply unlovable adult.”

‘where is the pen i was using like 3 seconds ago’ an autobiography i’ll never write because i keep losing the pen i was using like 3 seconds ago.

And today I did my hair,went to the church

Met my parents after a month,brought home some duck eggs and some herbs.

Cleaned my tub and washed my breasts.

My plants were green and my apple was not rotten today.

White linen sheets and dirty curtains still made my bed.

I did all the things but didn't wait for someone again.

"To love someone long term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be ."

-Heidi priebe

“how many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?”

— 𝘝𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘢 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘧

one of my favourite things in the entire world is when there’s a huge thunderstorm outside and it’s raining heavily and you’re in bed swathed in blankets and you have just never felt warmer and safer than you do in that moment

Girlhood begins when you want to crawl out of your own skin and murder your pretty self.

"If I ever see a flaw of yours, I'd say my eyes are the flawed ones."

- noorbradosti

Kristen Miranda // F. Scott Fitzgerald // r.i.d.

“Why is it that one runs to one’s ruin? Why has destruction such a fascination?”

— Oscar Wilde, Only Dull People Are Brilliant at Breakfast