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when georges bataille wrote, “no greater desire exists than a wounded person’s need for another wound” & when gillian flynn wrote, “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort” & when ocean vuong wrote, “sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined” & when lisa m. basile wrote, “did you inherit a sickness? did you blame god? do you believe in god? do you believe in yourself? are you still on fire? did you ever put out the fire?” & when stephen a. guirgis wrote, “why didn't you make me good enough so that you could’ve loved me?”

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CHARLES AMABLE LENOIR (detail)

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Anaïs Nin, from the short story “Elena”, Delta of Venus (published posthumously in 1977)

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THE LAST OF US 1.02: Infected

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“I traveled along with sleep in the evening. I let it take me into its black arms. Entwine me in its embrace. But when it crumbled at dawn, I found that it had not broke the chain. My life, still the same. And the day still long and awake. Still thick with pain. Like the numberless days before. Though I bang again on sleep’s door. Still I moan and weep on sleep’s floor.”

— Helaena C Moon  /  instagram - helaena.c.moon

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"The thing about sex with Henry is it’s never the same twice. Sometimes nothing gets him off faster than being talked back to, but other times they both want him to use every inch of authority in his blood, not to let Alex get there until he’s told, until he begs."

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I could function in a society that had an actual nightlife that isn't synonymous with just clubbing. Where are the night markets what if I want to go to the library at midnight

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being long distance is just. it's just. good morning I love you. what did you have for breakfast? how long have you been up? I just woke up. we are hours apart. I miss you. drink some water. I am hugging you I am kissing you. did you take your meds? we are listening to the same song at the same time. tell me about your day in full detail. how was work? I missed you. here's something that reminded me of you. I have no idea what you're talking about but I appreciate you talking nonetheless and I am listening intently. go to sleep. no you go to sleep. I miss you. I made you a playlist. yes another one. I wish I could feed you. we are so close. I know miniscule things about you. we texted all day. I didn't hear from you for hours. you're my best friend. do your homework. in the future we gotta do xyz. I love you. I miss you. I love you. goodnight.

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10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU (1999)  dir. Gil Junger

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it's interesting how in the popular imagination, middle-aged and older women are often considered entitled, annoying bitches whose feminism is outdated and manners nonexistent. these women are supposedly holding back progress and just being insufferable nags and hags in general. meanwhile, many NGOs—from animal shelters to soup kitchens, from rape crisis centres to rescue dog associations, from suicide hotlines to crime victim support services—actually rely on the unpaid labour of middle-aged and older women, who are very much overrepresented among their volunteers. often, these organisations are desperate to attract more men and young people, and some even have specific programmes to reach out to potential volunteers from those demographics! in the meantime, though: need someone to wash the remnants of an oil spill off a bird's plumage? accompany a victim of human trafficking to a hearing? sort through a pile of donations to refugees? time to call those middle-aged and older women to do their unpaid and underappreciated work.

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THE LOST BOYS 1987, dir. Joel Schumacher

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My body needs it—the hot baths, the care, the soft water, the perfume, the warmth. I take on the colors of the flowers, the bloom, the delicacy. It becomes me.

Anaïs Nin, mirages: the unexpurgated diaries of Anaïs Nin 1939-1947

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MARGOT ROBBIE Vogue Australia | The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

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Kate Chopin, from The Awakening

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You are both stars, don’t forget. When the stars exploded billions of years ago, they formed everything that is this world. The moon, the trees, everything we know is stardust. So don’t forget. You are stardust.

Before Sunrise (1995)

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Atelier Couture | Thy Love