Razor-winged-butterfly - Mayhem

Raskolnikov is to me what the Joker is to straight men

A relationship between a man and grammar can be so deeply personal...

abortion is a human right. my partner and I have compiled an exhaustive document with links to abortion funds and pro-choice organizations to support during this time, including state-specific resources. please consider donating + sharing!!! 

linked: here

HERE is where you can share it on twitter

Don't believe nostalgia, it blurs the edges of knives and makes them look like candles.

Dead Academia content even though I just found this aesthetic and don’t know what it contains:

• Solving your own murder with the help of your academic rivals!

• You hear ethereal, almost ghostly, singing from the auditorium that turns into shrieking from shredded vocal chords.

• Performing ancient rituals to the spirits to ensure you ace your exams (not demonic or evil, I’m Filipino spiritual don’t make this seem evil/from a colonizer lens).

• From your peripheral vision, you see that one portrait of the academy’s founder scowling— at you perhaps?

• You and your classmates’ research paper on unsolved murders has gone a bit too far— you grimace at the crimson dripping from your hands.

• You could’ve sworn that he was dead, face-down in the rose bushes outside the dormitory. Yet he’s here, eccentric and enthralling with honeyed words pouring from his lips. You stole his heart and now he’s here to take yours.

A father warns his daughter about men's intentions, their shallowness and crudeness; a father thereby warns his daughter about himself, his past self, too. I am a man, I know what it is to be a man; I was like them, and now I must warn you about them. I am warning you about myself; be careful.

Katherine Angel, Daddy Issues

Only hot people lay on the floor and contemplate their mortality 

My brother cracked my rib one morning and gave me half of his orange in the evening.

I remember being younger and sometimes wishing to be a single child, to have all the attention and gifts and time but when he was away from home for the first time, I remember crying and stroking his side of the sofa as if blurting out my first wish- for him to be home, without thinking twice, without a shadow of doubt. Even the genie cried. Growing up with a sibling is like being the only people on a stranded boat, constantly figuring out how you can live with them and questioning how you could ever live without them.

One evening, in a fit of anger, I told him how I never wanted him to be my brother and he yelled that he didn't ask for it either. The air smelled like kerosene and my chest was filled with arsenic. I was raging and threw his favorite toy aeroplane down the window, 7 stories of guilt and shame. He cried all night and I wanted to cut off my right hand, the hand that hurt my baby brother. I didn't know if he was ever going to forgive me or even talk to me. The next morning at breakfast, he didn't look at me or say a word, I felt like my chest was about to explode and guilt clouded my vision. But then, I felt a hand quietly holding half of an orange my way.

The only people on a stranded boat. How do you live with them? How could you ever live without them?

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

Edit: I added a visualizer for this on my YouTube channel. Check it out here

Love, On Its Way Out.

Two Week Notice, Leanna Firestone | Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines, Pablo Neruda | Conversations Over Sanguinaccio Dolce, I.B. Vyache | Seaside Improvisation, Richard Siken | I never went to that movie at 12:45, Dolly Lemk | In a Dream You Saw a Way To Survive, Clementine von Radics | Quote by Kate McGahan | Pillow Thoughts, Courtney Peppernell | Bluets, Maggie Nelson

(This isn't prompted by my real life so much as it is my love for that first song and also. blorbos.)

Michael Cunningham, from “The Hours”