am-i-dead-or-not

[am-i-dead-or-not]

[am-i-dead-or-not]

tathève, indigo

[am-i-dead-or-not]

What do you call this

Waiting for us to meet again

Months on end

And yet it still feels the same

I remember someone said,

'If we meet each other in hell, it is not hell.'

-excerpt from a poem by me

[am-i-dead-or-not]

From the very beginning you are being told to compare yourself with others. This is the greatest disease; it is like a cancer that goes on destroying your very soul because each individual is unique, and comparison is not possible.

- Osho

[am-i-dead-or-not]

my favorite love language is trying, actually

[am-i-dead-or-not]

O innocent heart, what has happened to you,

What is the cure to this ache?

[am-i-dead-or-not]

has a breakdown about what a lonely life it is. goes for a walk with headphones in. purchases a beverage at the supermarket. you know how it goes

[am-i-dead-or-not]

— august, tathève simonyan

[text ID: promises made by june / had rotten / by the time august came. / i’ve mistaken silence with nothingness / and unlearning it asks for courage / i know not how to muster. / this half-empty glass of orange juice, / ever-present on its throne of dust, / on this wooden table, / holds more promise than i ever will. / i, a personified you, for this is not a wall but a mirror / [personified] / i, i mean you, i mean [redacted] / you eat the sun and with your burnt tongue / try to sing songs / not about pain. / don’t you? / in july / [i] you tried to stretch the rare / moments of happiness but our feet / always seemed to stay out of the / blanket / uncovered. / how do i love something without / fully succumbing to it? / you thought you had to die for you to live, didn’t you? / you thought there’s always a spring after a winter / you didn’t think that / this vivaldian symphony hadn’t been written for bodies like ours, . did you? / in july / you didn’t know that loneliness is a crowded town / yet /  it’s always been bestowed upon you / to lock the gates / and turn off the lights / every night, / did you? / june made promises it knew it couldn’t keep. / but i shall be wiser / in august.]

[am-i-dead-or-not]

And are we really headed somewhere?

– Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[text ID: Someday, god knows when, I will stop this absurd, self-pitying, idle, futile despair.]

[am-i-dead-or-not]

Just found this picture and really liked it. (Idk who is the photographer lol)