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desire isn’t the absence. it’s the ache that learns to live there. lack is a hole. desire is the longing that circles it, singing. we don’t want the thing. we want to want. we are shaped by our hunger 😂😂
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ashhh please suggest 5 movies i can watch to be niche like you 🥹
the great beauty (2013), i am love (2009), the long goodbye (1973), the cousins (1959), the graduate (1967). you can check out my letterboxd if you want :) it’s moody, occasionally pretentious, always sincere 🍸
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Am I being greedy if I ask of you to make a playlist with the same vibes of the picture collage you posted today
no i love u mwah
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eat delicious things in every sense. savor novels that unravel slowly, like decadent meals for the mind. let sunlight kiss ur skin, bask in its warmth like an endless summer. hold close the people who make you feel alive, kiss them tenderly, love them fiercely. laugh at bad jokes, the kind that make you roll ur eyes but secretly smile. plant basil on your windowsill, water it with care, breathe in its fragrance as you stir it into your meals. be unafraid to indulge in beauty, to notice it everywhere and to consume it greedily. there is no virtue in starving yourself of joy, no wisdom in rationing delight.
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Yooo chill I know I been teasing u but I’m afraid of sex damn look at the stars
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summerbutlikesummerhowsummerwaswheniwasalittlekid.com/howto
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love is about transforming. about leaving someone better than you found them, even if you had to leave. and i hope i’ve done that. i hope somewhere, someone is still listening to a song i showed them. still laughing at something i said. still drinking their coffee the way i do. we don’t belong to each other but we do belong to the versions of ourselves we became in each other’s presence and in that way, we never truly lose anyone.
i keep thinking about this: maybe love isn’t a destination or a possession but an influence. a force that changes your shape. that helps you become. and when it’s gone, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost it. it means you’ve absorbed it. the people who leave don’t take it with them. they leave it behind in you.
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i keep thinking about this: maybe love isn’t a destination or a possession but an influence. a force that changes your shape. that helps you become. and when it’s gone, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost it. it means you’ve absorbed it. the people who leave don’t take it with them. they leave it behind in you.
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i love sluts i love perverts i love dykes i love faggots i love aromantics i love freaks i love librarians i love ibuprofen
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she arrives wearing a long black silk dress, no logos. her hair is undone in a way that makes you feel like it’s always looked like that. her bag is vintage and borrowed from her mother. she doesn’t say much at first but when she does, everyone leans in. she talks about love like it’s a foreign language she once knew fluently but has since forgotten.
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