Book: The Pain of Healing 💛
we're not kids anymore.

if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Andulka
Jules of Nature

pixel skylines
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

oozey mess
Cosmic Funnies
NASA

izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h
YOU ARE THE REASON
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
almost home

roma★
sheepfilms
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@sunny-vi
Book: The Pain of Healing 💛

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Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “What I couldn’t explain via text”
[Text ID: “I still don’t know how / to love someone / without swallowing them.”]
— Clarice Lispector, from “The Stream of Life.”
Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963″
Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “Concerns from a hot-boxed jeep”
[Text ID: “How do I stop / carrying everything / that had ever / happened to me?”]

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“I talk to God but the sky is empty.”
— Sylvia Path
“if you cannot forgive, then don’t. you do not owe pain anything, you only owe yourself peace.”
— shelby leigh
Grief comes in different waves at different times. It comes when you see something related to that person/thing. Sudden waves of grief hits you while you are driving or just taking a quick shower. You will miss and then grief over that person/thing forever and that's why it's known as the last act of love.
"You know, love doesn't mean "l never want you to change." But I don't think it means "I don't care if you change" either. So I suppose it might mean, "I believe that you'll always be the person I adore." A declaration of faith, perhaps."
– Sayaka Saeki, やがて君になる (Bloom into You), Via "freckled-lili" on Tumblr
“Maybe the courage I need has nothing to do with telling the truth and everything to do with walking away.”
— “The Girl on the Train” by Paula Hawkins (via suspend)

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Mushroom landart by Jill Bliss
㋡🥀
peaceful..
“No, I’m not ok. But I haven’t been ok since I was 11, maybe 12. I am still here though. I’m still breathing. For me, sometimes, that will have to be enough.”
— Clementine von Radics
Franz Kafka, The Diaries of Franz Kafka

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And my god, is my soul empty
So many cups I’ve poured from,
So many cups I’ve emptied.
What is left,
What is left but my own sinking reflection.
I see you, I see you
But god, does it look empty.
-Victoria Bradley, Half empty
Stained glass windows by Louis Comfort Tifanny