i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever

sometimes you have to choose the neural pathway less traveled in your brain

official elon musk hate post reblog to hate like to hate reply to hate

when e.e. cummings said “i’ll live my life if it kills me”

the real story is that if you’re in a museum feeling awe over the catholic art and feeling soothed and exhilarated you should probably take a little jaunt over to the Stolen Artifacts From African and Indigenous Cultures in the 1600s section and see if you get the same buzz. it’s the same people bro….art history is sectioned off into neat little aesthetic categories that are contemporary to each other but are deceptively positioned as one long evolution from primitive to civilized for a reason