thoughtdaughterarchive

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

My alone time is essential to my well being.

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I’ll never understand people that are scared to to anything on their own, I love doing things alone. it’s so freeing

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

“But it was a dream. We were wrapped in cotton, in silk threads, in webs, in moss, in fog, in the sea flavor of distance to be annihilated.”

— anais nin

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals

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ultimately the truth about frankenstein is that we are all grotesque amalgamations of the best and worst parts of everyone who came before us. and sometimes the people who are supposed to love us because of and in spite of this will not. and we can kill them with hammers for that. and i think that’s beautiful

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

Lucy Gray Baird

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

who needs a social life when you have followers who don’t talk to you and you run a blog no one cares about

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

I adore my district 12 girlies

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

how do you reconnect to life after being disconnected for so long

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

Coffee stains and piles of cups ringed with tea stains. Mugs of steaming coffee. Bags full of books and pens, receipts and journals, lip balm and hand cream. Well loved books from thrift stores. Hoodies and thick sweaters. Ink stained hands. Smudged lipstick and messy hair. The glow of the laptop screen. Baggy pants and fuzzy socks. Thick fluffy blankets. Days in the library working without seeing the sun. Postcards of travels on the walls and kisses on calendars.

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

"𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼"

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

— Alexandra Vasiliu

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

I searched for a place to worship. I started in the pews amongst the rose and rows of others listening to their testimonies their swears their vows. I searched for a place to worship in the quiet Temple with the chorus. In the background I searched for a place to worship. I spent time in the Bible in the Quran. I talked to the missionaries. I asked questions and searched for answers. I searched for a place to worship something that made sense to me and spoke to my soul. I searched for a place to worship.

Dad said the best place to worship was on a Sunday in the church. Mom said her place was in her room with her journal on her lap. My sister didn't have an idea of what worship was and simply stated she felt closest to God when she sang. My brother didn't believe in worship preferring fantasy to spirituality. I think his ideas have changed now, but I'd have to ask. I search for a place to worship a place where I feel at home, a place where Spirit warms me and I feel some a connection to something greater than myself. I search by singing and a choir by praying day and night. I searched by memorizing scripture and go attending classes all my life. I've looked for places both near and far of cultures, not my own for I grew up in a cult that told me to worship was not my own. I searched for a place to worship place. I could call mine. I searched for place to worship.

[thoughtdaughterarchive]

Welcome to the Harbor

I am building a garden of ink and thought. A place for unfinished ideas, half-forgotten quotes, and the words I don’t know what to do with yet.

Here, every post is a door. Some lead to quiet corners of literary musings; others open into stormy seas of tangled reflections. You may find scraps of poetry, pages from my commonplace book, or the lingering echoes of books that refuse to leave me.

This is not a polished library but a living archive — a harbor for restless words.

Come get lost.