threwaday

[threwaday]

The object of love is not an object at all, and what you've mistaken a person for an object is what's wrong with love's distortions. To feel the wretched pain of a love after a love has long ended is not just to feel the pain at losing love but to feel pain at the way love turns a person into a possession that can be lost

“Erotology II: The Long Night”  A Handbook Of Disappointed Fate- Anne Boyer

[threwaday]

Think of the way one person can make you feel, also the way that one person is only one. Why want that one person who is only, after all, one person, and why wake up longing for a person and fall asleep longing for the same person and who knows if anyone else in this is longing? You don't know if that one person is longing, too.

“Ercotology” A Handbook Of Disappointed Fate- Anne Boyer

[threwaday]

For headstrong women who know their own desires, growing up in conventional society sometimes feels like inhabiting a haunted house. At first, there is so much promise, mysterious and tantalizing. As you pull open that heavy wooden door  with the gargoyle knocker, you feel flattered by its intimidating proportions- you are necessary and important, maybe for the first time ever. But soon you catch fleeting glimpses of dark spirtis who whisper in douche-bro baritones that you don't belong and never will. You develop a recurring suspicion that you're merely a pawn in some elaborate game, that even if you're brave you can never be areal player. The floor shifts under your feet, the walls shake, you awake at midnight to heavy breathing. "She was asking for it" is scrawled across the wall in blood. You tell your story the next morning, but no one believes you. Did you imagine the whole thing? Is some unearthly force trying to make you feel weak and lost? Or are you just losing your mind?

“Haunted” What if this were enough?- Heather Havrilesky

[threwaday]

We've integrated all the pressures of the commercial realm into our personal lives, applying the same competitive expectations to love, friendship, family, and even our internal state of mind. Teenagers and twentysomethings have grown up with social media, which means they have been doing this their whole lives

“The Popularity Contest” What if this were enough?-  Heather Havrilesky

[threwaday]

Far from spoiled, the young people who have written to me don't seem to feel like they deserve happiness. They feel self-conscious and guilty about everything they do. They can't move forward without feeling like they're stepping on someone's toes. They often resolve to seem better, to work harder, to keep their mouths shut at the exact moments when they need to speak up and tell the truth in order to feel right with the world. They feel afraid of showing their true selves because they're sure they'll be shamed for it. Everyone is waiting to be exposed as a fake

“The Popularity Contest” What if this were enough?-  Heather Havrilesky

[threwaday]

This is about calling what isn't a life a life and calling what isn't one's own life one's own. about the embellishment of any "my" on a life that isn't and can't be or isn't quite living, at least not all the time

A Handbook Of Disappointed Fate Anne Boyer

[threwaday]

When the lamb is a snake is a lamb and all the world rearranged is itself what is innocent as a dove, the judgement our bodies wrote in us would become a different day. The world was to be grasped in its all; then it had to be sensed as what it is- already ours.

A Handbook Of Disappointed Fate Anne Boyer

[threwaday]

There we were at once formed by grudge and narrowed by desire. In everything we wanted, all we acquired, and in how we could not want, how we could acquire nothing, we were simultaneously the lamb and the bird of prey

A Handbook Of Disappointed Fate Anne Boyer

[threwaday]

Everyone says nothing is generalizable. The people come and go and no one night is like the other. People take up: they leave. They are satisfied until they are dissatisfied. The process is horizontal until it's not.

A Handbook Of Disappointed Fate Anne Boyer

[threwaday]

0 days so this is it/ this is the big shebang/my whole damn universe/ falling headfirst into a black hole/ this is the end of my love letters to nostalgia/ my love letters to things that don't exist anymore. honey,              we don't exist anymore.               can't you hear the sound of silence out there somewhere?

Honeybee Poems By Trista Mateer

[threwaday]

Love without forgivenss  is not love. Love that is unkind is not love. Love  that does not make you feel good is definitely not love. Love that does not grow anymore is not love anymore.

Honeybee Poems by Trista Mateer

[threwaday]

I AM NOT YOURS YOU ARE NOT MINE I WILL NEVER MAKE THIS MISTAKE AGAIN. YOU CAN LOVE AND LOVE AND LOVE AND YOU STILL WON'T BELONG TO ANYONE.  AND NO ONE WILL BELONG TO YOU. YOU WERE NOT THE FIRST THING TO STING ME AND YOU WILL NOT BE THE LAST

Honeybee Poems by Trista Mateer

[threwaday]

Google Searches On The Verge of A Nervous Breakdown

cheap fights/ sometimes I don’t feel like a person/ inability to leave my bed/ inability to breath/ things are moving very slow but also very fast at the same time/ symptoms of depression/ how long do I have to sit in the sun before my brain starts working right again/ cheap flights/ can you buy NyQuil in bulk/ top ten foreign cities to disappear in/ cheap flights/ how to explain anxiety to your mother/ how to explain depression to your mother/ how to explain sometimes wanting to kiss girls to your mother/ what to do if you come out and your parents don’t love you anymore/ how to find the city farthest away from where you are currently at/ cheap flights/ how to pronounce Melbourne/ deadliest animals in Australia/ will wanting to die feel different in another country/ does it matter

Honeybee Poems by Trista Mateer

[threwaday]

No one wants to speak of love unless it is for someone

A Lover’s Discourse Roland Barthes

[threwaday]

(I was looking at everything in the other’s face, the other’s body, coldly: lashes, toenail, thin eyebrows, thin lips, the luster of the eyes, a mole, a way of holding a cigarette; I was fascinated- fascination being, after all only the extreme of detachment-by a kind of colored ceramicized vitrifed figurine in which I could read, without understanding anyhing about it, the cause of my desire

A Lover’s Discourse Roland Barthes

[threwaday]

Interpretation: no, that is not what your cry means. As a matter of fact, that cry is still a cry of love: “ I want to understand myself, to make myself understood, make myself known, be embraced; I want someone to take me with him.” That is what your cry means

A Lover’s Discourse Roland Barthes

[threwaday]

Repression: I want to analyze, to know, to express in another language than mine; I want to represent my delirium to myself, I want to “look in the face” what is dividing me, cutting me off.

A Lover’s Discourse Roland Barthes