catenarius

[catenarius]

someone get on that

[catenarius]

deprive me of all sensation

so that when you touch me,

i will feel it entirely

i will feel you, entirely

[catenarius]

awn the road agaaaainnnnn

i am torn between loss and redemption

repentance repelled by grief

purity beat by shame

what have i ever known of vulnerability

what have i ever let myself know of honesty

purgatory, or a metaphor less sour

i am, trying to become more

this war has gone on long enough

[catenarius]

i know now that i created my own suffering

single-handedly raising the chalice of my own damnation

foaming at the mouth with eyes wide and pleading

i know now that i chugged that gauntlet empty

and poured out the nights drink into new notes pages and old diaries

i know now why i did that

i know now why i felt that

(be kind to yourself, the sun will come back up)

[catenarius]

“Stay close to anything that makes you glad you are alive.”

— Unknown

[catenarius]

Hanif Abdurraqib, A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance

[catenarius]

“and secretly, in my heart, i would shaw and nibble and probe and suck away at myself until the bitter taste turned at last into a kind of shameful, devilish sweetness and, finally, downright definite pleasure. yes, pleasure, pleasure! i stand by that”

fyodor dostoevsky

[catenarius]

— Clarice Lispector, from “The Hour of the Star.”

[catenarius]

“This year taught me that my loneliness has more to do with myself than anyone else. The loneliest I will ever be is when I do not have the strength to love myself.”

— Marianna Paige

[catenarius]

Then I’m with you

[catenarius]

i am a big fan of being in bed.

[catenarius]

i don’t consider myself a very festive person.

i spent my entire childhood loving christmas and the surrounding season. though eventually(inevitably), the magic started to fade. i think these days i’m just trying to preserve that magic. futile likely, but maybe if i keep all that holiday magic tied up with a red ribbon, it won’t escape. perhaps, when i’m old and all past memories of snowy mornings and broad smiles cease to exist, i can retrieve that box and feel just a smidge of that magic. i know it was probably just the glamour of childhood that made christmas so wonderful, i know that in each passing season, i remember less of explicit memory, and more of what i wished to feel. despite all, i wish for that magic every year, i wish for that simple, careless joy that came in crimson-wrapped packages and stockings hanging over the mantle.

happy holidays.

love, arius

[catenarius]

Dating is easy af tbh. First, you make a great number of deranged and vividly insane personal posts on tumblr until someone dms you. Then you marry them.

[catenarius]

December 16, 1930 The early diary of Anaïs Nin, 1903-1977

[catenarius]

paintings of me trying to get out of bed in the morning

[catenarius]

Pine to Sound, Nancy Kuhl

[catenarius]

“Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.”

introduction to euripides, from anne carlson