hauntedbeds

[hauntedbeds]

aight so you wanna sit under a willow tree and read classics to me as i gently fall in love with you?

[hauntedbeds]

Tamagotchi 💚

[hauntedbeds]

Good game. You fucking loser. You're talking shit? You little bitch.

YELLOWJACKETS (2021—) SEASON 2, EPISODE 4

[hauntedbeds]

i find it funny that conservatives try to paint me calling for the death and destruction of multi-billionaire CEOs as some radical "woke liberal" standpoint. as if that even has anything to do with politics, especially in this era of surface level circus politics. the same way they try to politicize the hurricanes or the wildfires destroying parts of america, as if climate change is somehow a red vs. blue issue. it's no secret i'm from a deeply conservative family in the sticks of florida and i still grew up hearing "i fought the law and the law won". the healthcare system has fucked each and every member of my family in a different way at one point or another, as is the case with pretty much every family in this scorched earth nation. remember when country music, the genre currently associated the heaviest with the most conservative faction of america, used to be staunchly anti-government and about sticking it to the man? remember when the coal miners, grandfathers to the "trump-er hillbillies" of appalachia that everyone loves to write off as ignorant, fought tooth and nail for unionization because the companies that were built off their labor didn't give a shit if they lived or died? since when has "upholding traditional values" gone hand in hand with... defending lawmakers and oil tycoons. my family and i complain about the same issues at the dinner table. the men in charge better hope they can keep their digital smokescreens running as long as they can because the moment the rednecks and the hippies lay down their swords long enough to realize they have the same enemy, all hell is gonna break loose.

[hauntedbeds]

Jane Austen // Nizar Qabbani

[hauntedbeds]

— Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

[hauntedbeds]

— Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Nelson Algren c. November 1949

[hauntedbeds]

You said it like a joke. You said I loved you, that I was in love with you as a joke and I agreed. I agreed with a smile on my face and I laughed along with you. You seemed so disarmed. Found my quiet confession so funny. So silly. The thought of me being in love with you such a distant possibility. Such an obscure thought, a crazy notion that could never happen. One that you would fiercely rebuke if it came to fruition. But it has. Oh it has. It’s here. It’s true. I adore you. These hypotheticals are my reality. I am in love with you. I said I would tell you, I have kept my promise. Disguised in half smiles and giggles filled with childlike wonder and unrequited tears. I confessed. I meant it every time I said it. I am in love with you. I said it out of fear I would never be able to say it in a way I so desperately yearn to say, but I kept my promise. I am in love with you. And you’ve heard those words at least once from me and maybe now it will make all the times I wish to tell you more easier to swallow.

— 9:28 pm 1.10.25

[hauntedbeds]

i would’ve left the entire world behind for you

[hauntedbeds]

Anaïs Nin, from diary entry featured in A Journal of Love; The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin

[hauntedbeds]

— Fortesa Latifi; everything there is

[hauntedbeds]

and you take me the way I am.

alain de botton/euripides/new year's day - taylor swift/trista mateer/ @moodylilac/peace - taylor swift/h.g. wells/ @godlyrot/unknown/new years day - taylor swift/unknown/the way I am - ingrid michaelson

requested here

[hauntedbeds]

I think there’s something powerful and beautiful about an artist reminding you of someone you love; that a song, a voice, can string you to the end of another person just by sheer relation, like a soft exhale, an oh, there you are, of course, you’ll always be there.

— 3:52 a.m.

[hauntedbeds]

— Warsan Shire

[hauntedbeds]

BE STRONG, BE BRAVE

Poem “Problem Area” (2016), in Last Sext, by Melissa Broder; // Unknown; // “The Waves” (1931), by Virgina Woolf; // “Notebooks” (2017), by Tennessee Williams; // “Fast Car” (1988), by Tracy Chapman; // “The American Crisis” (1776), by Thomas Paine; // Quote by @maplepecanpastry /// Stills from “Joan of Arc” (1948), by Victor Fleming, starring Ingrid Bergman

[hauntedbeds]

I hear you breathe. You are sick and your nose is stuffy and your breathing is heavy and I want to spend the rest of the night awake just to hear you breathe. I think there is nothing more comforting than the sound of your deep inhale and exhale. I think about kissing you. I think about spending the rest of the night admiring your sleeping figure. Your pale face, tired, soft, peaceful. There is so much love inside my chest for you, I’ve no choice but to go to war within myself. Love defeats my rationale. I wake you. A soft hum leaves your lips. I tell you I love you. You tell me you love me. Half asleep, barely there. And then I hear it again. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You’ve fallen asleep again. I could picture myself doing this forever. If only you knew how much of you exists in the moments you aren’t perceptive of the world. All of you is loved always, adored endlessly. How could anyone ever let you go? I could spend my whole life loving you and I will never feel satisfied. I will always want more of you. I will always yearn to hear you breathe. To hear you say you love me. To imagine your fingers in mine, your sleepy gaze holding mine. I want to hear you breathe down the telephone. I want to see your eyes flicker shut, trace the curve of your nose while you welcome dreams you won’t remember in the morning. Match my breathing with yours til I can hardly call it my own. Til my breath is your breath. Til your breath is my breath.

— 8:31 p.m.