The Holy Trinity:

“When you come back, you will not be you. And I may not be I.”

— E.M. Forster // The Other Boat (via qvotable)

currently reading King Lear by Shakespeare, and i must say i find it so hard to read plays. i know people love them, but they seem so plain to me? they’re nice to listen to though

Mothers have martyred themselves in their children’s names since the beginning of time. We have lived as if she who disappears the most, loves the most. We have been conditioned to prove our love by slowly ceasing to exist.

What a terrible burden for children to bear—to know that they are the reason their mother stopped living. What a terrible burden for our daughters to bear—to know that if they choose to become mothers, this will be their fate, too. Because if we show them that being a martyr is the highest form of love, that is what they will become. They will feel obligated to love as well as their mothers loved, after all. They will believe they have permission to live only as fully as their mothers allowed themselves to live.

If we keep passing down the legacy of martyrdom to our daughters, with whom does it end? Which woman ever gets to live? And when does the death sentence begin? At the wedding altar? In the delivery room? Whose delivery room—our children’s or our own? When we call martyrdom love we teach our children that when love begins, life ends. This is why Jung suggested: There is no greater burden on a child than the unlived life of a parent.

—Glennon Doyle, Untamed

There are no rules on when to be productive.

If you cannot function in the morning

You can do your work, homework, chores, etc. at 3am

You can go grocery shopping at 11:29pm on a thursday

You can shower, make your bed, brush your teeth at 3pm

You can write an essay in your bed at 9pm and go to bed at 1am

Don't force yourself to wake up at 5am to be productive and then think the day's ruined when you wake at noon

Doing something in a weird way is still doing something

Tokyo Ghoul + Snow

Simone Weil, “Detachment” (trans. Emma Craufurd), Simone Weil: An Anthology

[Text ID: “Love is not consolation, it is light.”]

bookstore cats...the cutest!

When that disgusting season they call summer finally ends and you start feeling that sweet sweet autumn chill in the air