— Anaïs Nin, From The Diary Of Anaïs Nin (Vol. 1: 1931-1934) (via Letsbelonelytogetherr)

Sometimes it feels like a lie to call myself a poet --

The world is a gorgeous, ethereal place --

All I've ever done is, do my best to use what little words I have to tell you what my eyes have happened to see, and, what my heart has happened to feel.

I'm just another of life's many plagiarists --

Stealing experiences for myself and pretending they're words born from my soul --

So what's the term, then, when the universe's machinations bring me across someone like you, and my heart is filled with so many words that I could write a thousand novels?

A poet?

A thief?

Or simply a woman with a mind, taken, filled to the brim by chance, with desire, need, and affection?

"Could you even describe the warmth of a glowing moon?" V. Rue, 2025.

NAHI KARNA BHAROSA MUJE AB KISI PE

Lidia Yuknavitch, from Reading the Waves: A Memoir published in 2025

Fortunately ONLY YOU CAN SAVE YOURSELF

marjorie - taylor swift

I have been constantly working for the last 3 years and that is why taking a break sitting at home feels so illegal I wanna kms