#on enduring

[inkpressedpetals]

[charles-jpg]

to love is to endure | charles leclerc

[sinligh]

It’s late July, A lost breath of soulful desperation bled half the year that has passed over my eyes, painting a veil like fabric that blinded me mercifully.

can time really heal anything? I’ve been struggling with digesting all that it stored for me…

My cruel heart is only a result of the ignorance that i built brick by brick from its remnants

I even named the process defensive mechanism.

It’s early august, I’ve held on to a routine for as long as i can, living off of small accomplishments; cause what’s the alternative?

Prisesstant melancholy? Undoubtable anguish?

I became insensitive to time passage, like a child that never knew health only saw it as a blanketing apology covering everyone they love.

a child that can vividly touch the heaviness of the life they’ll carry for as long as they’re allowed to.

I’ve been accumulating feelings like corpses that are waiting to be identified in a morgue.

frozen above my brainstem, that until the heat of the summer caused them to melt and overlap into a storming ocean; leaving little versions of me to drown in their waves

and I as a helpless outsider watching from a coast and hoping i could pour all of this in one single poem, or maybe aspire it all like you’d do a patient with fluids in their lungs: Thoracentesis.

And use it as a supply to wash away the catatonic rage that flows through my veins.

reality is ringing it’s bell inside the cavity where my eyes should be, and even though i can hear it.

It’s taking me longer than I thought it would to reach; cause thats all i can do.. try.

I measure my self value interchangeably with all the pieces of me i left behind to comfort others.

That and all the leftovers of my mother’s life.

My soul is constantly tugging.

Tugging, tugging, tugging. Never in the same direction but it’s still clear that it wishes to be free from me.

Emotionally attached to this and that to her and him

But they’re never enough; i never am…

And I’m so tired of it all, the never ending self loathing.

But to whom do I confess ?

Who would acknowledge my longing, Who will embrace my infelicitous desire to be held together or even just touched,

an innocent reminder of my existence, to ease me into being a human again, especially after I starved myself for the sake of nourishing others.

•••

•Quotes: Louis Tomlinson/ Taylor swift/ Henry Miller/ Rainer Maria Rilke/Helen Oyeyemi/Anne Sexton/Franz Kafka/Susan Sontag

•Original context: Sinligh

•Art reference:

1. Timothy Archer - The blue rider. 2. The Train by Ben McLaughlin. 3. Paintings by Raymond BonillaRaymond. 4. Ottoman Beauty with a Butterfly by Harold H. Piffard. 5. Side Light by Quang Ho. 6. Painting by Alex Kanevsky. 7. Fine Morning by Sally Strand. 8.painting by Steven J. Levin

[amiablesummer]

I must endure.

e.e. cummings // Sam Heelis, Submerged // Vincent Van Gogh, via @metamorphesque // Andrea Wan // Mary Oliver, For Example // Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to A Young Poet // everbloominglove // Ocean Vuong, Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong, via @lucidloving // Andrei Dobrynin // David Lethithan, How They Met And Other Stories // @archbudzar

[goldensunset]

in small fandoms you need to be grateful to the person who only accidentally hit you twice with a frying pan while trying to make you breakfast. in big fandoms you can block people for wearing a shirt you don’t like

[valtsv]

"objectively physically attractive but in possession of negative rizz" is one of my favorite character concepts. i think it's so great when there's an absurdly hot person who's just a complete fucking loser. the mood is unsalvageable the moment they open their mouth kind of deal. you get no bitches because you're so sucks.

[borgialucrezia]

[sarcastic-clapping]

[palaeosinensis]

[bajaja-blast]

you dislike Luke Castellan because he disagreed with an oppressive government system and actually took action to change the abusive ways him and his peers have been forced to follow for millennia.

I dislike Luke Castellan because in the Titans Curse he manipulated Annabeth, who he raised as his little sister, into holding up the sky, the FUCKING sky, for over 20 hours and had the audacity to walk away as though he was completely apathetic towards it while she begged and pleaded with him to help her.

we are not the same.

[avpdgirlfriend]

ohhh lol *remembers i cant stand this anymore

[www-pinkhearse]

Compilation of men calling harry any variation of good boy

[lampgate]

this is KILLING MEEEEE

[sinligh]

i want peace,

not the measured one that life offers me from time to time like a band-aid that will be ripped off before I heal

I want it like a graft,

patching up the exposed areas that i scraped off of my soul to feel lighter..

to move on.

I’m trying to write an independent story from all the tragedies of the women around me

digging my own plot with my nails on the exact same rocks that were used

to stone them..

carrying the guilt of that, the way they carried the shame of existence. The only difference is i refuse to ask for forgiveness.

sometimes it feels like all my feelings are over felt, if not by me then someone else.

I've seen it over and over again I, the eye of an outsider

or that of the storm

stood still when it all spiraled around me, I held on to the rubble,

and cemented myself back together

more often than not, I did it with rage so whenever i got spilled, like blood under an old rug,

with all my particles separated into different identities, unseen, uncared for while i floated in an astral projection status

Ironically, the core was always one

rage, rage again…

aging rage!

It's all that i know, it's all the shades.

I exist, Like an ugly bruise

Violet fading to blue, violent, contrasting the softness that i long for.

I can't seem to explain my existence to anyone, not even myself.

a bruise, self inflicted or not, I can’t stop examining it, obsessively

dissecting pieces of my soul, trying to find a marker for the malicious cells that overgrown my own.

In the daylight I get fascinated by the way it changes colors, and when sleep sits heavy on my eyelids i press on it harder,

curious to where will i draw my threshold line.. do i know how to exist without all this pain?

am i just a phantom of coping mechanisms, and survival instincts,

Shades of hysteria, along with estrogen ?

this world constantly seems bigger than me, that’s my only comfort.

•••

• Quotes: Taylor Swift/ Charles Bukowski/ Henry Miller/ anne sexton/ Louis Tomlinson/ Anaïs Nin/ Rainer Maria Rilke.

•original context: Sinligh

•Art reference:

1. painting by marta astrain. 2. Omen, 1886, by Emile Corsi 3. Oil paintings by Jen Mazza 4. Art by Liu Yuanshou 5. Art (detail) by Arthur Gain

•••

[saixria]

Somewhere in Apollo’s hospital on Olympus