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my mum is visiting me and it's fucking awful. i'm exactly how i always am around her - horrible. i just hate everything about her, she's everything i strive to not be. she's stupid, uninterested in anything but cultural slop, embarrassing, rude, just a person i don't want to know. she looks too much like the worst parts of me. she's done too much to me and let other people do too much to me for us to ever not have this horrible illness between us. it feels like i've built this fragile and difficult life for myself away from her for years and now she's here i don't know what to do, my life has sort of stopped. i don't want to have a week off and cart her around the city, i want to be going to work and having sex with my boyfriend and being ME, not HER. i'm not her. she's awful and terrible and gross and i'm not her. i'm not her, i'm me. that's somebody different. i hate her, not me. i'm me. i'm me. i'm me. i am. I am.

and people who snore like...just sort it out it's unbearable. it's a problem that needs dealing with if you're ever going to sleep around another person, i HATE it. for fuck's sake. so fucking gross.

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T in the p4m nylons

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— Clarice Lispector, A Breath of Life

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Discover the Striking World of Yuka Mannami’s Contemporary Fashion Portraits

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Neurosis is a "possession." You are possessed by a demon of selfdestruction. You are compulsive. You destroy. It is not your voice, your body, your true self. A demon inhabits your body. It is the spirit of the past. It is the past selves superimposing themselves over the present, blurring it, choking it.

Anaïs Nin | The Diary of Anaïs Nin, volume VI

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The holiday neurosis. The one time of the year when your memory is forced by associations to return to the past. The superimposition of other Christmases, other New Years, the awful sense of time passing, all this causes sadness, regrets or revulsion.

Anaïs Nin | The Diary of Anaïs Nin, volume VI

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addison rae in studio city ca the other day

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if we lose Shygirl to ozempic im jumping off a bridge

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“We are told that St. Francis used to spend whole nights praying the same prayer: “Who are you, God? And who am I?” Evelyn Underhill claims it’s almost the perfect prayer. The abyss of your own soul and the abyss of the nature of God have opened up, and you are falling into both of them simultaneously.”

— Richard Rohr (via kalynroseanne)