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I am good. I am loved.

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I hit my head on the wall last night.

the fear i learned,

had driven me up against the corner.

my back against the wall, all alone in the dark

afraid of moving.

I know nothing of what i am afraid for.

But everynight I move a little more than before

in hope of once being able to be free.

Though it seems tonight its not time yet

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all these footprints carry different stories

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meow

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Morning at the pond of Rastede, 1906

Hugo Duphorn (German, 1876-1909)

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what studying literature feels like

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I was never good at this body. 

There was always something in me so anxious to crawl out.

— kiki nicole, from NOBODY’S DAUGHTER

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― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Gentle Spirit

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As the thunder roared

the sky lit up on fire

I sat there alone

burning along with it

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I let go of the lip I didn't know I was biting, the metallic drop of blood rolling down it, a mark on the paper, now, an irreversible sign of my ignorance

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The warmth of another, the tenderness of their embrace, and the interwoven hands that create an unbreakable connection. Minds that effortlessly comprehend each other's emotions, and hearts that not only understand but also beat in harmonious rhythm, as if sharing a secret language of love.

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Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.

- Oscar Wilde

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Her beauty radiates, the moonlight, illuminating even the darkest of nights, in the vast, open sky, amidst the brilliant, shining stars, there she stands, proud.

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I never quite understood writer's block, well up until now. For me, it feels as though my words are in a chokehold. I know what they mean, not how to show them. It is a cage with a singing bird in it. The bird represents my words and cage me. The cage doesn't stop the bird from singing; rather, it deprives it of emotion to sing about. But the bird cannot be let out; the cage will lose its voice. If the bird is let out of the cage, what assures its return? What if it falls in love with the experiences and finds returning demeaning? Rest assured, it isn't leaving; it must learn how to represent itself within the sorrow of the cage