loveruntilforever

[loveruntilforever]

One day,

I’ll have a home of my own,

Where every wall isn’t another piece to a haunted puzzle.

[loveruntilforever]

shoutout to my homies who are deeply bizarre and have something wrong with them

[loveruntilforever]

"dead doesn't mean absent...", tathev simonyan

[loveruntilforever]

Kim Addonizio, from "'Round Midnight'", What Is This Thing Called Love

[loveruntilforever]

thanks for being nice to me. in return i will die for you and never leave your side and go grocery shopping with you.

[loveruntilforever]

fuck spotify wrap. let me wrap my arms around you.

[loveruntilforever]

they should invent a way to reconnect with old friends that doesnt feel like eating a pile of dirt in front of god

[loveruntilforever]

dreams now, 2024

[loveruntilforever]

my unquenchable thirst for love and the fierce desire to feel something keep me awake at night

[loveruntilforever]

from "we share the same longing"

[loveruntilforever]

mentally I’m here

by aivatko

[loveruntilforever]

Tag yourself

[loveruntilforever]

When certainty no longer feels familiar, I miss things I’ve never experienced before, such as the loving embrace of my beloved or the gush of wind treading through my hair as I walk at 3 a.m. in the night.

Sobriety is often overthrown by my own insanity to feel more, to feel dazed by the dazzling sight of something beautiful, for if anything, everyone and everything is art.

Yet, all I think of are the arms I’ve never been in, the intimacy that’s never once been felt by my heart.

Is it too presumptuous to say that I’ve never experienced love? I must believe so, for I have undoubtedly been shown depths of love I had thought to be impossible—love so far beyond enriching and brilliant that I cannot help but sink beneath its weight.

Yet, I crave something unequivocally mine, someone to share the same unspoken language as I do, someone to share the overwhelming, intrusively delightful sentiments as I do.

Is that too much to ask for?

— S

[loveruntilforever]

they call me tv show because I have episodes. they call me comic book because I have issues

[loveruntilforever]

i love dropping my pen putting my glasses on my desk and rubbing my face like an exhausted divorced academic in the 1980s who is greying and sexily tousled and has been up for hours digging through the yellowed pages of old obscure treatises about etruscan pots

[loveruntilforever]

i think real beauty lies in the untidy version of life. the one where u don’t move the unphotogenic things out of frame.

[loveruntilforever]

“It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars…I love you, I love you, I love you…”

— Vladimir Nabokov, in a letter to his wife Véra (1926), Letters to Véra