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Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire (via wordsnquotes)

Nympheas,  Artist: Claude Monet Year: 1899

May 2017 in Oxford, United Kingdom Blog | Twitter | Instagram

Does it ever happen to you that one minute you’ve just finished applying drugstore quality Carbon Black eyeliner on one eyelid with reasonable skill and the next moment you’re thoroughly exhausted, like can’t-move-another-muscle exhausted? The prospect of having to squint, strain your eye, make some kind of strange face at the mirror, etc. is simply soul-crushing, so you just want to drop the eyeliner into the sink that you’re leaning over, let the ink seep across the ceramic bowl and pool into a little pond of darkness that was meant to sit atop your face, but now runs from it. And it’s not even about painting your face anymore but the deafening realization that you might be doing this for the rest of your life, which would be alright, except you’re not sure you’re happy, and if this is the way that forever is going to unfold for you, then maybe you need to re-evaluate where you really are, and where you’re going, and who is coming with you, and who will leave you behind, and then all of those things just swirl inside your head and you’re still standing there with an unfinished face, running dangerously late, and a 200 pound weight on your chest and you mentally drop-kick yourself because eyeliner shouldn’t have prompted an existential crisis god damn it- but it did. It really fucking did. Does that happen to you? Or is it just me?

ig: suma.yy.ah