writin hurt eatin dirt

put that objectively not blonde but kind of light brunette dirty blonde sort of sandy sometimes blonde man in a situation

that photo of hunter s. thompson shooting his typewriter is such a mood

Writer confidence is not a thing you build and then have. It's a thing you have for about eleven minutes after writing something good and then it evaporates and you have to make more. There is no reservoir. There is no saving it up. You produce it fresh each time from scratch like some kind of emotional artisan bread and if you don't write for a few days you run out and have to start the whole process over again from flour.

Having to listen to Lana Del Rey in your gay friends’ cars and pretend it doesn’t sound like an old man trying to read a poem on his deathbed

When I was a little boy, girls used to just do random cartwheels for no reason. Then one day, they stopped. Now that I am a man, no women randomly do cartwheels. This is because society is evil and killed the cartwheel impulse in their soul. They don't even spin horizontally anymore. It's fucked up.

slow and slutty wins the race

don’t know who needs to hear this but ao3 is not a social media. it’s an archive. a library. please stop treating it like twitter or tiktok