Latest Posts by thatcrazybitchplease - Page 2

"I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it should lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal."

Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf

I think I love you.

I think I Iove you too much to let you be on your own when I don't trust you. But how do I keep this love alive if I don't trust you?

I think I hate me because I love you.

Am I crazy to love you?

Do you even want to be loved the way I love you?

my god is my imaginary friend and i have known him since we were both kids being brought up by distant parents with shaky hands, empty hearts and heavy heads. we taught them compassion as we learnt it.

"Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry."

-Holden Caulfield

idk why this reminds me of the dreams where my lover and i are still together and then i wake up and feel a void so profound within me that it pins me down to my bed and i have to spend all my energy in just the act of getting off it and then spend the rest of the day as a corpse.

How many times do u think achilles woke in the middle of the night to turn over to touch patroclus and wonder why he was so cold before he realized

your parched roots are set on my wetland heart, i have fed you well after your teeth sunk into my skin and severed my arteries. there are no good endings.

grenade grudges blow up; and there are two casualties.

repeat after me: i will not make myself small for other people's convenience.

The metaphysics of little things

I take an absolute pleasure out of existing day after day my spirit takes a simple turn for the loveliest of sentiments like washing my face in the shower and finding out I own a skin — a rosé, flushed skin and that my face in the mirror is so gentle because I become myself every time I look at it as if I had utter control over my forming substance — stirring cold milk on a hot afternoon

“my child is fine” your child has been listening to achilles come down for weeks on end

my heart is fluent in a tongue my mind can't translate. so i lay still on my bed, experiencing a wildness that can breathe me back to life from beyond my grave. tonight i believe in spirits. maybe i am a ghost when i fall asleep; anything is possible this very moment because it is nothing like the one it succeeds nor like the one it will precede. the future hadn't been created when i wrote the last sentence and now i am in it. Ah, to be alive.

I think the fast paced society we live in currently has brainwashed me into thinking i can upgrade myself and my life just as fast as when i restart my computer or phone. I have forgotten the natural cycles of life… how the moon takes her time to be full or how the crops take their time to grow their fruits.