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got a good grade in physical therapy because i ordered a sex toy life is fun

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Fox

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Was wishing there was a positivity post for original fiction writers since I see so many about how fanfic writers are doing so much for their communities even when they're not actively writing, and then I thought:

Be the change you want to see in the world.

So this is a positivity post for the writers out here who are working very hard on stories with no established community. Who can't talk about their blorbos and plot lines and brainstorming to anyone and expect them to know what any of it means. Who don't have much to share publicly, but are hoping they will one day.

You're doing a lot of hard work, and I recognize and appreciate what you're putting into the world, even when you're resting.

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GO MY OWN WAY

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the overwhelming feeling of sadness sometimes when someone treats me with kindness

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Cain by José Saramago translation by Margaret Jull Costa

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Vladimir Mayakovsky, from a letter featured in "Love in the Heart of Everything; The Correspondence between Vladimir Mayakovsky & Lili Brik, 1915-1930,"

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i've got seven missed calls and eight apologies in drafts and the thought of anyone wanting me makes me so afraid that i ask them to leave even when i want them to stay. inside my mind i am begging; please don't go— please love me anyways

grit, a poetry collection/ in image/ mayakovsky by frank o'hara/ sue zhao/ unknown / Ruth Madievsky, All-Night Pharmacy / gone girl, gillian flyn/ Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day, Nikki Giovanni / supernatural?? (someone confirm this) / I Put The Coffin Out To Sea by Lisa Marie Basile/ Sorry by Halsey/ Sorry by Halsey / unknown

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Anthony Thomas Lombardi, from "self-portrait as murmuration"

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““dear self, for the times i didn’t show you enough love, for the times i didn’t love you at all, i forgive you.” - sabina laura”

—

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on longing.

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- j (x)

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i love you. i love you and the way your mouth curls up when you won’t admit i’m funny. you hate smiling with all of your teeth, but when i see it, my body melts into the shape of waking up next to you on a sunny morning.

you kept me afloat and didn't even let me know you were drowning. it still hurts knowing how well you hid it but i guess it’s too late now.

what do i do with this? what do i do with this emptiness that has an underlying scent of your clothes?

my ribs crack every time i pass you and take in that loving scent. one that feels like holding me when i’m at my worst.

i’m sorry. i’m sorry you had to feel like you were at the bottom of the ladder, having to feel like you need to help everyone else up and by the time it’s your turn, you’re already back on the ground trying to catch your breath.

i’m sorry you didn’t feel like i could be there for you. and maybe that’s my fault.

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Fyodor Dostoyevsky // Alanis Morissette