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Anyways no weapon forged against me shall prosper and any evil wished upon me shall be reflected back to you tenfold, so jot that down.

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“I am strange to myself, as though someone unknown had poisoned my mother as she carried me.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke, tr. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy, “Ich bete wieder, du Erlauchter” |  Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

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― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[text ID: A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin.]

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“And you, who cannot keep still, who can never look back, where will you go next? How will I find you? Can you feel the world pull apart, the seams loosen? What, tell me, will keep it whole, if not you? if not me?”

— Blas Falconer, from ‘Dear Friend’

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ideal ways for me to die

1. old age, peacefully in my sleep

2. after a long and illustrious career i am at a rooftop gala hosted in my honor. i am wearing a beautiful gown, holding a glass of red wine, standing by the railing. a scorned lover approaches and, after a passionate spat, they push me over the edge of the building. the wine glass goes flying, splattering their outfit in red as a visual metaphor for the blood on their hands. as i descend my gown flies around me like two beautiful wings, a bird in flight. a photographer on the street manages to take a photo before i hit the ground and that photo wins the pulitzer. a new york times think piece is released regarding whether or not it's moral to profit off a photo of someone's death. the think piece also wins a pulitzer.

3. sex accident.

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“Here is what I see in your eyes right now: rainy night, narrow street, streetlamps gliding away into the distance.”

— Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), from “Gods” in “Vladimir Nabokov. The Complete Short Stories”

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Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters

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“Kill the part of you that believes it can’t survive without someone else.”

— Sade Andria Zabala, War Songs

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“I will horror, I will hell them, I am prophet.”

— Lisa Marie Basile, from “Prophecies,” published in Crab Fat Magazine

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I suck at apologies, so… unfuck you, or whatever.

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I cannot rest / always ready to run / always pretending I am not always ready to run, / even though there is nowhere to run to.

Alison Kronstadt, Bred In Captivity

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Cruel Intentions (2024). Beta.

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Kai Cheng Thom, from "to a lost sister", Falling Back in Love with Being Human: Letters to Lost Souls

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“That’s when you rise, finally. You rise out of the mud, in the rain, and you go back inside and suddenly everything gets really cold and calm. The answer doesn’t lie in your backyard because no one is going to come and save you even if you beg them to. Especially if you beg them to. You’re on your own, like you’ve always been on your own. You have to keep going forward, until you can’t go forward anymore.”

— Jeff VanderMeer, Acceptance