Yeah Man This Strain Is Called ‘final Girl’ It’ll Have You Backing Away Precariously Wielding A

You are still in my notifs

Good.

I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else.

“Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of a natural death.”

— Anais Nin

I'm not a bad writer. I'm not a bad writer. I'm not a bad writer. I'm not a bad writer. I'm not a bad writer. I'm not a bad writer. I'm not a bad writer. I'm not a bad writer. I'm not

i want a geto in my life

The Wind-Up Doll

More than this, yes more than this one can stay silent.

With a fixed gaze like that of the dead one can stare for long hours at the smoke rising from a cigarette at the shape of a cup at a faded flower on the rug at a fading slogan on the wall.

One can draw back the drapes with wrinkled fingers and watch rain falling heavy in the alley a child standing in a doorway holding colorful kites a rickety cart leaving the deserted square in a noisy rush

One can stand motionless by the drapes—blind, deaf.

One can cry out with a voice quite false, quite remote "I love..." in a man's domineering arms one can be a healthy, beautiful female

With a body like a leather tablecloth with two large and hard breasts, in bed with a drunk, a madman, a tramp one can stain the innocence of love.

One can degrade with guile all the deep mysteries one can keep on figuring out crossword puzzles happily discover the inane answers inane answers, yes—of five or six letters.

With bent head, one can kneel a lifetime before the cold gilded grill of a tomb one can find God in a nameless grave one can trade one's faith for a worthless coin one can mold in the corner of a mosque like an ancient reciter of pilgrim's prayers. one can be constant, like zero whether adding, subtracting, or multiplying. one can think of your --even your—eyes in their cocoon of anger as lusterless holes in a time-worn shoe. one can dry up in one's basin, like water.

With shame one can hide the beauty of a moment's togetherness at the bottom of a chest like an old, funny looking snapshot, in a day's empty frame one can display the picture of an execution, a crucifixion, or a martyrdom, One can cover the crake in the wall with a mask one can cope with images more hollow than these.

One can be like a wind-up doll and look at the world with eyes of glass, one can lie for years in lace and tinsel a body stuffed with straw inside a felt-lined box, at every lustful touch for no reason at all one can give out a cry "Ah, so happy am I!"'

- Forough Farrokhzad

this is the funniest thing I’ve seen in any review ever

Your username in my notifs traumatized me

I'm very proud of this achievement

the fact that we only have “herculean task” and “sisyphean task” feels so limiting. so here’s a few more tasks for your repertoire

icarian task: when you have a task you know you’re going to fail at anyways, so why not have some fun with it before it all comes crashing down

cassandrean task: when you have to deal with people you KNOW won’t listen to you, despite having accurate information, and having to watch them fumble about when you told them the solution from the start (most often witnessed in customer service)

feel free to chime in i ran out of ideas much faster than i anticipated

I have to give props to Chuuya. The fact that this man has canonically lost three whole friend groups (The Sheep through betrayal, the Flags to Verlaine, and those killed by Shibusawa during the Dragon Head Conflict) throughout a 3-year period, then loses his partner (Dazai) and has no idea where he is or if he's alive for 3-4 years...

You have to admire his mental fortitude, because he's relatively well adjusted for how much shit he's been through. (Not even counting his status as a government experiment and his existential crisis on whether he's human or not.)