HARPER STERN in "SMOKE AND MIRRORS"
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HARPER STERN in "SMOKE AND MIRRORS"

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āI need to stop fantasizing about running away to some other life, and start figuring out the one I have.ā
ā Holly Black
āāi sit home everyday, and let my illness get the best of me. it consumes me, and soon there will be nothing left of me.āā
ā a book thatāll be too hard to write
Why did we stop with ballroom dances??? Like seriously to waltz around a room with a handsome stranger to classical music while others look at us with envy and after the music ends both of you with flushed cheeks, breathing fast, the sexual tension ; that was the shit.

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aight so you wanna sit under a willow tree and read classics to me as i gently fall in love with you?
You are allowed
nay, encouraged toā¦
buy books youāll never read
abandon books halfway through
read your favorites over and over again
read āeasyā books
read books you donāt totally understand
just look at the pictures
start in the middle
take notes
break spines
read the book after you saw the movie
skip the boring parts
keep books out of sentiment
bring a book everywhere
read comics
return books to the library unread
The point, my dear reader, is joy.
What really gets me is when you're reading a book and the chapter labels have, like, vines or floral details around them or something. it makes me so soft - just- the fact that someone was like 'ooh we can add beauty here, we totally should' and they did it
The version of you right now is deserving of love. Not you two years ago when you had more of your shit together, or the five years later version where youāll surely be thriving. The version of you right now. The one that might just be okay, or is really struggling, or is bored and unproductive. That version deserves love. Having trouble accepting this is fine, but actively denying it is not. Your value is intrinsic, and finding confidence in that is mandatory.
When Solange saidĀ āI canāt be a singular expression of myself, thereās too many parts, too many spaces, too many manifestations, too many lines, too many curves, too many troubles, too many journeys, too many mountains, too many rivers, so manyā¦ā I felt it in my soul

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what the fuck is ādark academiaā
Clarice Lispector, tr. by Johnny Lorenz, Um Sopro de Vida
āTremendous grief. I look for him everywhere.ā
ā AnaĆÆs Nin, Fire: From āA Journal of Loveā: The Unexpurgated Diary of AnaĆÆs Nin, 1934ā1937
you ever come across a good song after ages of being lowkey sick of all your music and feel like the stars aligned
āIs there another life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be, we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.ā
ā John Keats, from a letter to Charles Brown; Sept. 28, 1820. (via weepforadonais)

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āSelf-destruction Self-destruction isnāt snorting the line on the party just because you want to try it for fun and thinking āIāll do it just once, just to try it!ā Self-destruction isnāt going out and drinking a little too much sometimes. Self-destruction is taking that line even you know what will happen, knowing the side effect of that. Itās taking that line, not because of fun or people around you, itās because you have that urge inside you that tells you to do it, to fuck yourself up. Self-destruction is going out with the intention to get drunk and not know about yourself the whole time just because you feel something inside of yourself that needs to be destroyed. You donāt drink because youāre sad or happy, you drink to kill that something inside of you. Self-destruction is that smoke of cigarette you just took. You didnāt start smoking because of people around you make you do it, you started smoking because you heard itās bad for you. Now youāre addicted. Or maybe you arenāt but you still do it. Self-destruction is when you go to some random person you met at the bar house because of sex. You donāt know who he is, you could be anybody, you could end up dead, raped, you donāt know it wonāt happen, but you go anyway. You know all the risks but you do it anyway. Self-destruction is pushing people away and making yourself antisocial on purpose. Self-destruction is popping painkillers even if you arenāt in pain. Self-destruction is getting into fights on purpose. Self-destruction is letting your id doing whatever you want. Self-destruction is a lot of things, but itās never a choice. Self-destruction isnāt mental illness. Self-destruction isnāt when you break up with your boyfriend so you lock your room and cry or go out and get drunk to forget about him. Self-destruction is something in people, something that pulls you to the edge. Itās the sweetest sin of all of them. You can fight it, but it always wins. People keep saying to fight it like if they can fight it, you can fight it also, but if you are a really self-destructive you canāt fight it and you know it. Itās part of your reality, your life. Not all alcoholics are self-destructive. Not all addicts are self-destructive. Not all drug addicts are self-destructive. Not all who are depressive are self-destructive. Not all alcoholics are self-destructive. Not all addicts are self-destructive. Not all drug addicts are self-destructive. I smoke, I drink, I take pills ā Iām not addicted to any of that. I do it do destroy myself. I donāt hate myself, Iām very far from hating myself. But some people do hate themselves. Some do, some donāt. everybody is different. If somebody asked me why I do what I do I wouldnāt know how to answer. I know what is the goal, but I donāt know the main reason beside something self-destructive inside me. For example, I know what heroin does to people but Iād love to try it. But Iāll never do it. Not because I donāt want to, but because I know what would it do to people around me. I donāt want to fuck them up. I want to fuck me up. And there are ways to do it without hurting somebody constantly. People who are self-destructive donāt want to harm you, they want to harm themselves.ā
ā T.S. aka me/ things i never said out loud
āI had lived in books and imagination, so my journey into my self was different. I had to find the earth.ā
ā AnaĆÆs Nin, from In Favor of the Sensitive Man: Essays; āThe New Woman,ā