And For My Next Trick I Will Now Demonstrate Just How Many Fucked Up Things A Girl Can Have Wrong With

Erica Jong, Sappho's Leap; from 'Talking to Aphrodite'

i love when you hear a song and you're like “oh id absolutely stumble through the snow bleeding from a knife stuck in my gut to this”

style inspiration: @filmnoirsbian

He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer's- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. The only thing she remembered was her son's name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn't know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him.

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

All my grief says the same thing— this isn't how it's supposed to be. And the world laughs, holds my hope by my throat, says: but this is how it is.

Fortesa Latifi // The Truth About Grief

every day i wake up and discover a new health problem that i have

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.

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

please reblog this if it is okay to anonymously confess something to you.

This close 🤏 to walking into a mysterious fog and never coming back