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she is garden parties at dusk, poetry readings, fireflies that look like fairies, dangly gold earrings, vanilla ice cream with raspberries, listening to fleetwood mac, her legs intertwined with yours at night, whispering ‘i love you’ in the dark

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I felt that I was not, never had been and never would be, a living part of this overpoweringly solid and deeply meaningful world around me.

John Knowles, A Separate Peace (via quoted-books)

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back to basics, s.a.

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                                               Nothing has boundaries

in the ways I’m willing to worship. Who cares for baptism

                                when the body

is excess holiness                waiting to combust.

— Roy G. Guzmán, from “Marrow,” Catrachos

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Hell understands me better.

Clarice Lispector, from “Brasília”, Complete Stories (trans. Katarina Dodson)

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so whatchu mean is, maybe i should buy some of that fair and lovely. become a vegan so my eating disorder will come back for me with open arms and a tight mouth– i mean truly be up on that “white girl shit.” whatchu sayin is, you’ll kiss me if i start overlining my lips. if i start speaking a language far more “exotic” than my own. i should arrive fifteen minutes late to my own funeral with a fair trade coffee in hand. how bout i just give in, become phoenix, show you that there had been something beautiful lurking underneath this blackness all along– haven’t you noticed the burning? how i gaslight myself on fire every day? you know my favorite form of self harm is looking like me.

for colored girls who have considered suicide when casual sex isn’t an option, Kiki Nicole (via 7-weeks)

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“If I am a witch, then so be it, I said. And I took to eating black things–coffee, dark chiles, the bruised part of fruit, the darkest, blackest things to make me hard and strong.”

— Sandra Cisneros, from Woman Hollering Creek; “Eyes of Zapata,” c. 1991 (via violentwavesofemotion)

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Even when I look away I am still looking.

Richard Siken, from Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light (via halflunar)

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This is why it hurts the way it hurts. You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache. You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much.

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via wordsnquotes)

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“She was my soul mate. Not in the romantic sense of the word. She was the type of soul mate who completes you in ways where you thought you were already whole.”

— Ashleigh Catibog-Abraham, There’s Nothing Left to Save (via books-n-quotes)

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“And I am done with my graceless heart. Tonight, I’m going to cut it out, and then restart.”

Florence Welch

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(The itch to ask whether I’m still loved; and the itch to say, I love you, half-fearing that the other has forgotten, since the last time I said it.)

Susan Sontag, As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh (via heartshop)

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You’re not a creature in a body. You exist as the stars exist, participating in their stillness, their immensity.

Louise Glück, from Poems 1962-2012 (via star-eaters)

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— Elle pleure, insensé, parce qu’elle a vécu ! Et parce qu’elle vit ! Mais ce qu’elle déplore Surtout, ce qui la fait frémir jusqu’aux genoux, C’est que demain, hélas ! il faudra vivre encore !

Charles Baudelaire, Le Masque (Les Fleurs du Mal, Spleen et Idéal, XX)

English: “—She is weeping, fool, because she has lived! And because she lives! But what she deplores Most, what makes her shudder down to her knees, Is that tomorrow, alas! she will still have to live!”

(via orendil)

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What if—and this was the question I couldn’t bear—the rest of my life was just this:

the process of surviving?

When in fact I had not survived.

— Meghan O'Rourke, from “A Note on Process,” Sun in Days

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(…) a burnt child loves the fire.

Oscar Wilde, from The Picture Of Dorian Gray

(via

adrasteiax

)

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in 2015 florence welch said “don’t make a shadow of yourself always shutting out the light” and in 2020 she said “in every one shines the light of love” and that is how we heal