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— Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. 6: 1955-1966 

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Touched bottom again. Decided to liberate myself. We are never trapped unless we choose to be.

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anais Nin, vol. IV: 1944-1947

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What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Franz Kafka

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great song, made me sit on the ground thinking deeply about my life! I'll listen to it 500 more times

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sorry for being intense about everything, it’ll happen again

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I was born to sit in a cafe doing fuck all

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Queen 👑

Amateur front row photographs taken at Fleetwood Mac's concert at The Coliseum in Cleveland, OH - September, 1977.

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A man selling art, Paris, 1949

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·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙ 🕯 gloomy season playlist 🌥

low vibrations - the feeling of thick dark lip gloss on your mouth, splayed across plush velvet furniture, a candle is lit, the air is sultry and you catch glimpses of orbs floating around

the tenderest part - sometimes it’s okay to sit next to our shadow selves, to only share tears and nothing more, there is soap in our eyes, what else are we supposed to do?

no hesitations - i want to hold your hand in a crowded room where the lights are on for once, i am only looking at you and there is a cage of birds being released in my chest

the irrelevant - i am burying your body in the middle of an open field, i keep my knives by the door, broken statues of gods are under my feet. who do you think you are? i did not lose you, you lost me

eat my youth - watching my old self through songs, the coming of age movie in my head where my younger self is the main character (as they deserved)

god of the aisles - everyone’s eyes are on you, apples falling to the ground, looking at yourself in the reflection of any surface, smiling to yourself as you pass by others, who is the mystery walking down the low lights of the grocery store?

medusa myth - exposing the inner rage of milky ink, i have a desire for everything i once never could have, this time i control my own story

taste of smoke - you are sitting in a broken down pub with wooden black walls, rain is pouring, jazz or blues is playing as you sip on an unfamiliar drink, you are waiting for someone who might not show up

under the lights - in the backset of your friends car, head out of the window, cold wind blowing through your face in the dimly lit yellow glow of the night, the streetlights and stars merge into one sky, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to scream through a tunnel

realitybreak - on a rooftop away from the movement of the world, count constellations and wonder if they have ever counted us, in between the sun leaving and moon not arriving, you spot someone walking alone in the cold and wonder if it makes a difference if you were walking with them, it’s nice to feel like your life is just this

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Going through memories like they were movie scenes

- Jesse and Jane, El Camino

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“I desire violently, and I wait.”

— Anais Nin

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nothing will cure depression except listening to fireflies by owl city on repeat for 53 hours straight. trust me i’m a professional