𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒈𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆
˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚

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@booked-booklover
𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒈𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆
˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚

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What was the most pain you have ever felt?"
Healing from someone I once thought I would heal with.
Maybe one day you realize, what it was you threw away, but I'll no longer be the one begging you to stay.
moving on © All Rights Reserved — Jai
Sentimental Value (Joachim Trier, 2025)
Death: “You’ve cheated me three times now.”
Human: “And you keep coming back like a bad Tinder date.”
Death: “I am inevitable.”
Human: “You’re predictable.”
Death: "I'm not the one who struck an epipen while choking on peanuts." Human, dramatic gasp: "Oh, don't you go that way."
Death: “You also once fought off a bear with a flip-flop.”
Human: “It was my sandwich.”
Death: “And you drank three energy drinks, climbed a billboard, and screamed ‘immortality is a mindset.’”
Human: “And I stand by that.”
Death: “You broke both ankles getting down.”
Human: “The important thing is I got down.”
Death: “I’m genuinely unsure if you're resilient or just aggressively stupid.”
Human: “Why can’t it be both?”
Death rubs their temples with skeletal fingers: “I’m going to need a sabbatical.”

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hi yes once again thinking about this thing louisa may alcott said
also a poem from the new, unreleased collection. very possibly my own all-time favourite.
Georgia O’Keeffe, from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz featured in My Faraway One: Selected Letters of Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz: Volume One, 1915-1933
“I like people who have a sense of individuality. I love expression and anything awkward and imperfect, because that’s natural and that’s real.”
— Marc Jacobs

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on watching a parent age
i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening
OP, this is genuinely a masterpiece, three poems in one, moving and well craft. Please tell me you have submitted it to at least some poetry contests, and if not, please do so.
to the person who reposted my poem a couple days ago, i read the tags and i'm so sorry for your loss. there are not words adequate to comfort you right now, but here is a piece on grief i wrote a few months ago that i hope you may relate to someday
Miss you forever, Sweetie. 💜
So sad yet so beautiful written, my God! Would like to challenge myself to this style of poetry some day. So so smart.
on watching a parent age
i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening
OP, this is genuinely a masterpiece, three poems in one, moving and well craft. Please tell me you have submitted it to at least some poetry contests, and if not, please do so.
to the person who reposted my poem a couple days ago, i read the tags and i'm so sorry for your loss. there are not words adequate to comfort you right now, but here is a piece on grief i wrote a few months ago that i hope you may relate to someday
Miss you forever, Sweetie. 💜
Grief is strange. It doesn't always arrive in tears. Sometimes it looks like reaching for your phone before remembering. Like hearing something funny and already knowing who you'd tell. Like falling asleep with imaginary conversations because they're the only ones that still feel real. Maybe that's why I still talk to you in my head. It's the only place where you still answer.
Mine.
for me, it’s being excited to hug my grandpa when i’m going to my grandparents house, but then i remember. i miss his hugs more than anything.
sometimes it’s knowing he’ll never see the man i’m becoming.
sometimes it’s wondering if he’d be proud of me.
sometimes i feel my heart sink knowing that he won’t see me graduate.
a lot of the time, it’s missing playing card games with him.
i love you, papa 💙.
One of the most important things to remember when writing, or reading advice is that it is advice.
Not unequivocal, hard and fast rules.
Your writing is your own, it's your self expression. Every bit of literature you read and write, no matter how big, no matter how small, no matter how much you love, hate, or are indifferent to. It shapes how you want to write your own stories. So that when you do use some advice, it's for a purpose.
You purposely chose to repeat a word.
You purposely chose run on sentences.
You purposely use lots of em dashes or full stops or whatever you think needs to be there.
Verbs, adverbs, nouns, adjectives, punctuation, sentence structure.
They're all YOUR tools.
Don't close off to constructive criticism, but remember that you know your work best. If you can explain why you write something, then you're doing great already, but maybe we can help you find an even clearer way to express it.
We, your readers (from whoever to wherever you post your writing), are just here to help you make sure your writing comes across how you want it to. And learn some things ourselves along the way.
E.E. Cummings said,
"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, day and night to make you like everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight. And never stop fighting."
Writing is a way to give a permanent shape to a fleeting thought.

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“I don’t want to get attached to anyone anymore, it only destroys me in the end.”
— Unknown
Ah, mon chéri, mon amour, my handsome love, you, you! You, with the peace you bring me, the life you fill me with, your greatness that rubs off on me, and the kindness and the demons you instill in me! You, and life! Don’t leave me! Keep me always by your side! Don’t let me leave. I don’t want to die! Ah, I’m afraid of this terrible need that you’ve become to me, this vital need that you are for me! I’m afraid. The bond that unites two beings is so fragile. The obstacles on our path are so great! And I need you so much! Come! Come quickly and take me in your arms, speak to me, calm me, cherish me. Tell me, tell me again and always that you need me and you’ll always need me, you’ll need my presence by your side! Give me back my reason for living and my appetite for life! I don’t know anymore if I love you. I think it’s more than that and I’m a bit terrified. Guide me. Help me. Give me your hand to lead me. I can only find myself within you. Help me, I beg you. Force me if you have to, but let me hear you, so I’ll finally know that you know that I belong to you. I know I’m a heavy burden to bear. Are you still willing to keep me beside you?
Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Mon Cher Amour, May 14, 1950 [#304]