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Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle Vincent van Gogh, Garden at Arles (1888)
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someone said we had more fun in childhood because we didnt have any past memories to linger on and it has stuck with me ever since
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i was thinking of the change in how i respond to music from my teenage years to now and i have a corny metaphor - its a burn wound. blazing and fiery and intense. every feeling is absolute truth and each sting is the universe falling apart. a few years on, and its all scars. you're caressing them, and its a different kind of intense, you are incomplete without them. its comforting and painful. the music i need now must acknowledge them, just like the music of my teens had to acknowledge the newness of the world.
i used to want angst, and now i want angst mixed with regret
#i cannot for the life of me explain it#youth is the kind of intense where everything hurts and you dont belong#looking back is a kind of intense where everything hurts but now you really have nowhere to go
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i do, often, think of that quote from wislawa szymborska talking about love and the inexplicability of some of it. "great love is never justified" etc. and it truly isn't. and thank god for that.
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Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke
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“And all that led me—where?”
— Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
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— Olivia Gatwood, from “The Lover As A Cult.”
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what's the opposite of feeling sand slip through your fingers because I feel this poem more and more as time passes
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I love you Tumblr I love you stardew valley I love you little pockets of the Internet where I can be happy
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hi everyone. does anybody else miss something they can never return to. anyone else being swallowed whole by grief. anyone else clinging to love as a life preserver
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Fuck everything else but am I good thing I ruined? Could I have been good?
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childhood was so crazy. my parents were kind of young. a meal seemed to last forever. i could run for ages. everyone was alive
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google search how to cough up the ball of grief that's been stuck in your stomach since birth
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