#[ ] Tumblr posts

  • How to read her coldness: She is preoccupied. She is unhappy. She is unhappy with you. You did something and now she’s unhappy, and you need to find out what it is so she will stop being unhappy. You talk to her. You are clear. You think you are clear. You say what you are thinking and you say it after thinking a lot, And yet when she repeats what you’ve said back to you nothing makes sense. Did you say that? Really? You can’t remember saying that or even thinking it, and yet she is letting you know that it was said, and you definitely meant it that way.

    In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado

    #mine#reading notes #carmen maria machado #[ ]#home
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  • This is how you are toughened, the newest wife reasoned. This is where the tenacity of love is practiced; its tensile strength, its durability. You are being tested and you are passing the test; sweet girl, sweet self, look how good you are; look how loyal, look how loved.

    In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado

    #mine#reading notes #carmen maria machado #[ ]#home
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  • “Don’t talk to me like that,” you say. Then, horrifyingly, you start to cry. “I had to make a decision, and I feel confident that I made the right decision.”
    She unbuckles her seat belt, and leans very close to your ear. “You’re not allowed to write about this,” she says. “Don’t you ever write about this. Do you fucking understand me?”
    You don’t know if she means the woman or her, but you nod.
    Fear makes liars of us all.

    In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado

    #mine#reading notes #carmen maria machado #[ ]#home
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  • [ ] Hi everyone. Hope everyone is in their right frame of mind and healthy. I used to be depressed, stressed and sleepless. I tried medication, therapy but none had an impact on my mental wellbeing until i stumbled upon YouTube channels such as this one. Please like and share this post because we never know who is in need of hearing and watching contents like these.


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  • *sigh*

    #.text #[ ]
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  • the possibles

    i never went to your house but i saw it, and i remembered.
    you, texting me after my sister drove off: you could have come
    in with me.
    but i don’t know what would have happened then,
    and i am and was terrified of you.

    last summer was nightmare fuel, because [ ] left, the night before
    i had to play graduation with you and the rest of the orchestra and
    band kids who weren’t graduating yet. me, shaking in my seat, and your
    hand on my knee. violet, what’s wrong, what’s wrong? even though
    i had called you sobbing the night before. even then, in my daze, i
    was bothered by your (feigned?) ignorance.

    this summer is a hazy daydream, and it’s hardly even started. my girl
    and i are coming up on one year, and you’re long gone from my life.
    i keep wanting to text you, but i know that it would go horribly. i know
    that to text you would not be good for my brain.

    possibilities abound, even though i still don’t drive. intimate acoustic show
    tomorrow and i think i might cry. my dad listening quietly to the artist in question
    on his car’s bluetooth stereo. graduation dinner and a gallon of grocery store
    lemonade. my dad’s toast, tiptoeing around the bad parts of senior year for me
    and my sister both. i remember when y’all were this big… the shame and fear

    when i thought he was going to mention the ways in which i
    want to change my body. the utter relief when he
    didn’t breathe a word of that.

    #mine#violet clare#[ ] #i thought of you in the fire #nosebleedclub
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  • Moreover, perhaps it isn’t love when I say you are what I love the most—you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love.

    — Franz Kafka, from a letter to Milena Jesenská wr. September 14, 1920

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  • To David, love meant declaration. Wasn’t that the whole point? To Sarah, love meant a shared secret. Wasn’t that the whole point?

    — Susan Choi, Trust Exercises

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  • Dearest, take me to you, hold me, don’t lose faith; the days cast me back and forth; you must realize that you will never get unadulterated happiness from me; only as much unadulterated suffering as one could wish for, and yet—don’t send me away. I am tied to you not by love alone, love would not be much, love begins, love comes, passes, and comes again; but this need, by which I am utterly chained to your being, this remains.

    — Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer wr. c. January 19, 1913

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  • It would be very unjust to say that you deserted me; but that I was deserted, and sometimes terribly so, is true.

    — Franz Kafka, from a diary entry wr. c. January 24, 1922

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  • The hardships of living together. Forced upon us by strangeness, pity, lust, cowardice, vanity, and only deep down, perhaps, a thin little stream worthy of the name of love, impossible to seek out, flashing once in the moment of a moment.

    — Franz Kafka, from a diary entry wr. c. July 5, 1916

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  • #[ ] #WHY WHY WHY.
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  • After all, I am an excellent story teller.

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  • for [redacted]

    after catherynne valente

    i’ve got a kitchen-sink
    crush on you. the oddest phrases
    can mean the most, i think.

    or maybe i’m breaking apart &
    this is word salad. word salsa.
    salad i can tolerate but i’m allergic

    to salsa. kitchen crush, computer screens.
    baking in the heat on opposite sides of
    the world. i collect things i like & i let

    them go. love is a yeti, love is god-awful.
    love is a monster in the kitchen eating up
    all your food. all of this really happened

    because i wrote a poem for a Boy and he
    hated me. but that’s not important now.

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  • #and in the darkness I say- fuck! #[ ] #[its a reference dont worry] #>signa mae #>the doctor is in
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  • [Your subconscious here]  

    #submission#[ ]#insert here #your text here #random #not a suggestion #not a moment
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