Dead Academia Content Even Though I Just Found This Aesthetic And Don’t Know What It Contains:

Masterlist

Poetry

Brother (tw: CSA)

Friday nights and clandestines

The anatomy of my heart is flawed

Proclus once said:

"This therefore, is mathematics: she reminds you of the invisible forms of the soul; she gives life to her own discoveries; she awakens the mind and purifies the intellect; she brings to light our intrinsic ideas; she abolishes oblivion and ignorance which are ours by birth ..."

Man I love maths

My biggest comfort in life is that Henry Winter can't do math either

  ― Pablo Neruda, One Hundred Love Sonnets

[text ID: I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, / in secret, between the shadow and the soul.]

Hearing “I’m so proud of you” when you feel like you aren’t doing enough really does lift a lot of weight off of you.

Having younger siblings who are set on the mindset that I never want them to succeed is exhausting. Why would I want that? I actually wish you success where I failed. I want to give you all the roadmaps marked with all the potholes I fell in so that you don't. I slept with an eye open and the fan off so that I could hear all the sounds and intervene if a fight broke out. You didn't notice. I didn't want you to. My life has been a patchwork of failures that I have woven together as successes. I have never hidden that. You use those failures as an argument when we fight. (It hurts) I took things you didn't like, unknowingly. I have forgotten what I liked, but I know your choices. I am sorry I am harsh on you sometimes. Please I love you, you are family. I don't think I'll love someone that much.

love letter to fanny brawne, john keats

—the male gaze

the robber bride by margaret atwood // the virgin suicides (1999) // at test of objectification theory: the effect of the male gaze on appearance concerns in college women by rachel m. calogero // ex machina (2015) // a woman’s beauty by susan sontag // lolita (1997) // shame is an ocean, swim across by mary lambert // fleabag // fleabag: the scriptures by phoebe waller-bridge

bein able to reblog posts of deleted tumblr accounts is absolutely the best feature here

its feels like dragging a corpse around through a bacchanal along with its legacy

― Virginia Woolf, A Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals, 1897-1909

[text ID: I belong to quick, futile moments of intense feeling. Yes, I belong to moments. Not to people.]