“child, be strange - dark, true, impure and dissonant."
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Hey boo,
I noticed you’ve been deleting some of your posts here. Of course, you’re always free to do that.
I just wanted to name something I think we’ve both felt—our boundaries here have sometimes been blurry. This space has held so much of our individual inner lives, and I want to make sure it stays safe and open for both of us.
So I was thinking: let’s keep posting and deleting freely, without feeling the need to explain or be conscious about it. But if there’s ever something we really want the other to see or respond to, we tag it with #27. If that tag isn’t there, we give each other space—no matter what the post is about. We have been somewhat doing this, but I think defining this out loud will do us good.
I care about you. I don’t really know how you feel about me anymore, and I won’t try to define it. But I do get anxious when you post things that seem heavy or concerning, and I’m not always sure how to respond. I also definitely stir something in you when I post stuff that could be about you—even when I’m not explicit about it.
I thought this might help us both breathe a little easier here. This way, we can be sad, happy, perturbed, inspired, enamored—whatever, really—in this sacred space.
Take care always.
- gab
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Oh God, I’m so tired. 6 July, 1927 The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1924-1941)
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— lunamonchtuna (via letsbelonelytogetherr)
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Wislawa Szymborska, from "Tortures," featured in Map: Collected and Last Poems
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La belle saison (2015) dir. Catherine Corsini
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