Jihyun Yun, From Some Are Always Hungry; “The Leaving Season”

Level 1:   🌼 daisy 🌼 membership  

a letter from “Letters of Vincent van Gogh” every single day

art recommendations on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays

poetry recommendations on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays

access to all the previous posts (Franz Kafka’s “Letters to Milena”, “Letter to his Father”, poetry/art recs)  

Level 2:   🌻sunflower🌻 membership  

a letter from “Letters of Vincent van Gogh” every single day

a letter from Vladimir Nabokov’s “Letters to Véra” on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays

art recommendations every day of the week

poetry recommendations every day of the week

monthly book recommendations

additional content related to art and literature

access to all the previous posts (Franz Kafka’s “Letters to Milena”, “Letter to his Father”,  Rilke’s “Letters to a Young Poet”, poetry/art recs)

Level 3:  🌸cherry blossom membership🌸

a letter from Vladimir Nabokov’s “Letters to Véra” on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays

poetry recommendations on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays

art recommendations on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays

access to all the previous posts (Rilke’s “Letters to a Young Poet”, poetry/art recs)

Beautiful paintings <3

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/darkvail/cottagecore-animals-3/

Brightstar; John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Beautiful gardens and flowers :D!

The moon in Romantic paintings

why don’t you read a poem about the sunrise written 5 centuries ago and contemplate the fact that we have been writing about the same sun for centuries upon centuries and then maybe you’ll calm down

“No indeed my mind is more agreeably engaged. I’ve been meditating on the very great pleasure of which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

“And may one dare ask who’s are the eyes that inspire these reflections?”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet”

- Mr Darcy

As I was undiagnosed autistic, my traits just flexed hardcore in high school. And I had only few symptoms before that. High school breaks us.

No more single classes. You're now moving about every 45 minutes. Oh, and classes change on a daily basis. Lunch and recess? Nope. This is an American school, baby: overcrowded and under resourced. You get 15 minutes in an echoing chamber to eat a grease patty on hard bread. Previously gifted? Nah, bitches.. That was those standardised tests. You're now meat for the college grinder. Friends? Nope..nononono. Since we're splitting you up constantly, you get to glimpse each other in passing on your way to class.

Oh, and all those rules you've been using for the past 13/14 years? Useless. No, we won't tell you what the new ones are.

There is a reason so many teens come forward around this time period asking if something is wrong with them. And many get told it's just hormones, or they're just "kids" acting up.

No. How about we actually listen to teens when they say "I feel like something is wrong" instead of telling them everything is fucking puberty.

How about we teach people, from a young age, that questioning yourself is safe? How about we encourage teens to research themselves, and give them a space to do so? Think it's only kids liking TicTok trends? Maybe they see something and have no space to express it.

"What if they're wrong?"

So, they're wrong. But they learnt safety and value in reaching out.

I don’t know why people would continue to choose me and invest in me.

One day, between the headlights and the sound of the shower, it might start to get easier. Everytime it does, I start to drown again. Maybe it’s because after a while, I’m sick of fighting and It’s much easier to sink, to falter, to fail. After a while, people stop expecting things from you, teachers favourite loser. Pretty horrible for a perfectionist and overachiever.

I don’t know why this is something I continue to struggle with. I have food, money, a girlfriend who treats me like a alluring flower, even though I have bugs inside. They start to eat me every so often and people get to peer inside, behind my petals. I shouldn’t be struggling and yet I am.

It may be the writer in me but it’s something I can’t contain. Enough to scare my friends, enough to make my girlfriend hold me tight, enough to keep my mind occupied. Like a dark cloud that follows me, I can’t shake it. I know I’m a bad person, I’ve tried to change, but inside I feel it. The anger, the pain, the sadness, the frustration. Almost reluctant to admit how often my mind feels like an LDR song.

It makes sense that people wouldn’t want to be around all this. My mind constantly running, never turning off. Why would someone want to be with someone who always has a running commentary and an opinion about everything. I should get paid for the way I ruin peoples days, on and off again, like a carousel.

But it’s okay, I don’t care at the end of the day. Isn’t that right?