sorry professor i did not do this asisgnemtn becuase i was too sad! NO consequences please. goodbye
okay, who took my diary??
“my child is fine” your child romanticizes getting lost in a forest.
You and I were never meant to be. Our worlds have nothing in common except you like talking and I like listening.
poem: learning to listen to your voice
i have not been writing much lately,
for i feel i do not possess the “right” words to say,
and i have been tossing more poems
than i have been finishing—
i am learning that
sometimes not saying anything
is better than saying something
empty—
so i have spent nights sitting,
paying attention to the silence
despite the hundreds of distractions
begging to break the stillness
on account of their desire to be
constantly moving—
yet, i do not want to be the one always speaking,
acting as if i deserve that kind of authority,
just because i want so desperately to avoid
doing nothing—
i have not been writing much lately,
but i am not doing nothing;
in fact,
i am finally learning to listen.
-j.g. edge
Sappho - translation from Anne Carson’ s “If Not, Winter”
fuck hustle culture i love not doing anything. i love not getting out of bed i love being late i love not working when im at work and i love watching time dissapear like it’s afraid of me
loggin back on here, feels like picking up that half read book and continuing with the story line
everytime i open tumblr, a voice in my head says, "oh i gotta read those books i bought to relate with these posts."
but shortly after another says, "nope!"
Was watching the most diabolical Hannibal scenes and my mum kept humming along to the violin while making jam in the kitchen. Duality of man
by Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then – in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life – was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.
the secret history 🏛: how close are you and your group of friends? how far would you all go to protect each other? how many languages do you speak?
if we were villains 🎭: are you into theatre? who’s your favourite shakespeare character? would you or do you smoke weed or cigarettes?
dead poets society 🖋: do you prefer poetry or prose? do you get along with your parents? do you resist authority or do you deal well with it?
kill your darlings ⏳: would you consider yourself an intelligent person? have you ever fallen in love with someone who wasn’t right for you? tradition or innovation?
homer 📖: is it more important to be brave or to be kind? do you like to read?
cigarette 🚬: what is your worst habit? do you like drinking? do you party a lot?
leaf 🍁: what is your favourite season? what is your favourite comfort food?
vermont ❄️: would you ever go to school far away from your family? are you scared of losing the people close to you?
wine 🍷: how far would you go to help yourself? what about to help other people? do you think humans are inherently selfish?
piano 🎹: what’s your favourite musical genre? do you play any instruments? who’s your favourite artist?
whiskey 🥃: tell us about your first kiss. what quality would make you reject someone who asked you out?
murder 🔪: are you capable of getting very angry? what are you most afraid of? what would be the worst way to die?
just a lost 18 year old kid in search of something (he/him)
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