Do Not Let Anybody Convince You That The World Was Built For Two. Do Not Ever Ever Buy Into The Idea

Vengefulness is obsolete to me. Sometimes your absence in someone’s life really is enough. There is no greater emptiness than to look for someone in everything and find them in nothing

i just need to have more rules for myself. more rules and limits. surely that will help me

This is nauseating

Venezuelan prisoners held in bluebonnet prison (TX) who fear being sent to CECOT form SOS in the prison yard. Photo taken by Reuters who flew over the prison in a small plane after being denied entry to the prison by ICE.

https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/sos-migrants-held-texas-fear-notorious-el-salvador-prison-2025-04-30/

Please read the article. Do not let these people be swept under the rug and forgotten in two weeks. The injustice here is horrifying.

strawberry locket

silver 925

I kind of love being crazy and having lived a crazy life and seeing crazy things happen and knowing crazy people. It’s just comforting

When the painter said, OK, you guys, take off your clothes! I startled at the plural, assuming I’d been engaged to model by myself. But then the dark-skinned god I knew as Aaron from my Econ class unzipped his jeans, and dropped them, grinning, on the floor. So I did, too, and clambered up beside him on the plywood box that elevated us above the clutch of paint-stained easels. Thoughtfully, the students posed our naked bodies. Someone fluffed the crispy hair between my legs into a dark brown bristling fan. And someone pinched the sides of Aaron’s face to pinken up his cheeks. Privately, I installed myself inside that mental space where I had hidden as a child when the world could be aborted no other way …

It was part of my plan to walk unclothed among the portraits my unclad body had provoked. So when we broke for lunch, the students lunging in a herd out back to smoke, I did. If you had asked me then why I modeled, I’d have said, to overcome my bourgeois insecurities, to combat my fear of what might happen if I showed myself completely naked to someone else. But if you asked me now? I’d describe the privilege of walking among a museum of strangers’ images devoted to oneself, and tell you what a privilege it was to see myself the varied ways that others did.

Some silly fellow had painted nipples on me the size and shape of frying eggs. Another jokester had shrunk them down as small as M&Ms. But someone serious and sad had shared a vision of my head as a clotted orb of hair and mouth, and brushed in underneath, a body headless as the horseman in the myth. Then I seemed to walk into the darkroom of my mind’s own eye and saw the self I’d always felt inside but never known: a complicated, unsmiling creature with a fear-tinged face. Around her the aura of something golden was fighting with whip-like straps of something black. She was staring straight into the future, trying to get out, trying to conceal her fear, completely unaware of how it glistened and glowed, and of how irresistible it was for the artist to spread it across the canvas so that everyone could see.

kate daniels, when I was the muse

I could do both it just feels insane

Bwaa there’s life drawing tmr but I kinda want to draw my grandmas bleeding heart flowers