lol i hate today’s era of absolutely zero nuance takes. a friend didn’t behave exactly as you’d wanted them to? cut them off. a guy didn’t text you back instantly bc he has his own life? he’s just giving you breadcrumbs. doing something makes you uncomfortable? don’t do it anymore. someone isn’t instantly available for you? disinterest. just absolutist statements that often don’t apply to the multilayer situations of everyday life. like. stop. literally just stop it
hawaii, usa
Euripides (Tr. Anne Carson) / @wholeheartedsuggestions / Jenny Slate / Euripides again
hey (with the intention of losing the time war)
A pesar de que te abandoné por distracciones, seguiste a mi lado, aguardando por mí... ¿De qué está hecho tu corazón que ama desinteresado y libre? Mientras el mío se acongoja cuando, simplemente, cree que hace el amor.
Even though I abandoned you for distractions, you remained by my side, waiting for me.... What is your heart made of that loves selflessly and freely? While mine grieves when it simply thinks it is making love.
It wimdy
who are you when you are not watching tv or movies? when you aren't playing video games or reading a book or fanfiction or listening to music or whatever other kind of media that you engage with? who are you when your mind isn't in another world or story, when you are forced to sit with yourself and the only experience you have is your own sensorial life? can you define yourself outside of what you consume? who is that person? do you like them? can you bear it? can you bear it?
My dad had once told me it would be abnormal to be normal after all you’d been through and I’ve been looking at life differently ever since
“Today is a wonderful day, an avalanche of light and I would like to stand with you in this rain of sunshine, to flow together, to melt into it… in mornings like this, life roars within me.”
—
Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, January 13, 1950 [#128]
(via acknowledgetheabsurd)
Her fluttered spirit, delicate and soft, bumping against the lamp of life, too hard, too glassy,
Vita Sackville-West, from her poem "In Memoriam: Virginia Woolf" published in The Observer on 6 April 1941
you’re not alone, someone else is reading this post at the same time as you