neurotic-nereid

[neurotic-nereid]

Is it all about yaoi for you

Yes.

[neurotic-nereid]

longing noun.  a feeling of wanting something or someone very much

[neurotic-nereid]

[neurotic-nereid]

[neurotic-nereid]

[neurotic-nereid]

give yourself a sense of place and time. rotate your wardrobe when the weather changes. update your playlists every month. write down three things you did today. do it everyday. message your friends good morning. buy yourself different flavours of tea based on your mood, the packaging, the weather, your heart. save the little paper labels; stick them in your notebook until the inside cover is full of little colored tags. have it hot in the winter. have it cold in the summer. learn to make apple cider, raspberry cordial. spend the summer knitting a scarf for the colder months. spend the winter sewing loose flowy blouses for the summer. open the windows, five minutes a day if it's cold, all day if it's warm. give yourself a sense of place and time and weather.

[neurotic-nereid]

We tread, and grown quiet, we walk, On towards my house, white, enchanted, Our mood is too tender to talk.

—Anna Akhmatova, trans. by Jane Kenyon, excerpt of "Snow", in Twenty Poems

[neurotic-nereid]

[neurotic-nereid]

Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova

[neurotic-nereid]

[neurotic-nereid]

She wanted the best oils and perfumes, wanted the best kind of life, wanted the most tender hopes, wanted the best delicate meats and also the heaviest ones to eat, wanted her flesh to break into spirit and her spirit to break into flesh, wanted those fine mixtures—everything that would secretly ready her for those first moments that would come. Initiated, she foresaw the change of season. And desired the fuller life of an enormous fruit. Inside that fruit that was preparing itself in her, inside that fruit that was succulent, there was room for the lightest of daytime insomnias which was her wisdom of the wakeful animal: a veil of watchfulness, clever enough to do no more than foresee. Ah foreseeing was gentler than the intolerable acuteness of goodness. And she mustn't forget, in the delicate struggle she was engaged in, that the hardest thing to understand was joy. She mustn't forget that the steepest ascent, and most exposed to the elements, was to smile with joy. And that's why it was what had least fit inside her: the infinite delicacy of joy. So when she'd linger too long inside it and try to possess its airy vastness, tears of exhaustion would well up in her eyes: she was weak when faced with the beauty of what existed and would yet exist.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Excerpt from An Apprenticeship or the Book of Pleasures, by Clarice Lispector.

[neurotic-nereid]

i just want to make myself proud.

[neurotic-nereid]

:(

[neurotic-nereid]

[neurotic-nereid]

[neurotic-nereid]

i’ll say it a hundred times because some of you need to hear it a hundred times but the trick to liking yourself again is learning new skills and hobbies or returning to ones you had. it makes you so confident learning new shit all the time.

[neurotic-nereid]

No literally, it’ll just be a random Wednesday and you’ll stop giving a fuck