Hi! My pronouns are she/her, I’m bi, I 💖 musicals, I write musicals and fanfiction, and I’m socially awkward but send me requests anyway! Masterlist --> https://sparkle-heart-anon.tumblr.com/post/175878114161/masterlist
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— Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
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“Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.”
— Robert Brault
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Margartia Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus
[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]
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Duras
#being supposedly very close friends with a man#And then them becoming so explicitly like a man#And not just like a man#but the kind of men you have been trying to run from your entire life#is heartbreaking
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Where does the boundary go, between independence and selfishness?
I fear I have already crossed it.
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“Sometimes the happiest ending isn’t the one you keep longing for, but something you absolutely cannot see from where you are.”
— Shauna Niequist
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a girl of fear, a woman of anger— look how we've grown
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“If outside validation is your only source of nourishment, you will hunger for the rest of your life.”
— Unknown
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WE FOUND OUT THAT MOTHER FUCKER IS STILL HUNG UP ON ME AND REGRETS DUMPING ME EVERY DAY WE’RE SLAYING FR FR
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More bad poetry (that is hopefully slightly less bad)
The scenarios I make up
as my head hits the pillow at night
have changed.
I no longer dream of you buying me sunflowers,
Of holding my hand as we ice skate,
Of tucking locks of hair behind my ear
As you kiss my forehead
And tell me you love me
I have stopped wishing you would ask me
Anything about myself
How could you go so long
Not knowing my biggest achievements in life?
Especially when I dropped loaves of breadcrumbs along the way
Instead,
I picture your would-have-been sour mood,
Like the curdled milk left in my fridge
When I would have told you I got into Oxford.
Things would have been different,
Because you are a patriot,
And I am a girl with a dream of flying far away
Or if you did support me going
And if somehow you found yourself next to me
On a plane with the beautiful green tail
I would find myself smushed in the middle seat
Because you prefer the window.
I dream at night
Of all the chances you had to hold the door open for me
You walked in so confidently.
I don’t mind holding the door,
But I shouldn’t have to beg for the favour to be returned
You talked of marriage
Far too soon
But I didn’t trust that you wouldn’t buy me a yellow gold ring
Or that you would want to learn
Since I was a girl in pigtails
I wanted nothing more than a sapphire to grace my finger
I think at night
Of the list of baby names
I have tucked away in my notes app
How I have always wanted a daughter
To name her after the weeping tree.
But you didn’t like I wanted to wait a decade
Before ruining my body,
Subjecting her to abject torture
Because you were older
At night, though,
The wonderful memories creep in too.
How you held my hand proudly.
I was not your trophy,
Nor your secret,
But a human.
I think of how you called me beautiful,
Of how you fulfilled dreams I never thought
I would be worthy of.
Of how you held me close at night,
And touched me hair.
Of how you made diary entries of the teenage girl
Who wanted nothing more than to disappear
Come true.
I think of the bad things too.
They keep me from crawling back,
Begging on my knees for you to take me back.
I think of how
You said I love you
Before you asked me to be your girlfriend
Or how you didn’t talk to me on dates
With the sea of distance roaring between us.
I think of the lack of sunflowers,
$4.99 at Trader Joes.
Or how you didn’t ask me about my dreams,
To write a book,
Like your mom,
Or become a clinical ethicist,
Like your grandfather.
I think how I know so much about you,
And you knew nothing of me.
I’ve stopped dreaming
That you would ask me about myself,
And think about the love you said you had.
You loved a girl you did not know.
It keeps me at bay,
To dream of that.
It does not hurt any less,
To dream of that.
#bad poetry once again#But hopefully slightly less bad#Yes it is still dramatic ramblings about this dumb boy#Mostly because one of his friends says that he thinks about me every day#And still talks about me#And misses me#And I miss him too#But also dont#So yeah#spero
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— Trista Mateer ,“I Still Forget We’re Not Even Friends”
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Suddenly,
All the ramblings in the locker room,
All the emo poetry written in glitter pen,
All the empty gallons of ice cream,
and Taylor Swift songs,
and tear stained pillow cases,
Made sense for you,
In the absence of you,
My dear
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“There was something about him that made me want to abandon all caution.”
— Wendy Higgins, Sweet Evil
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