not the lover’s choice, but the poet’s.

“i was written by a man” “i was written by a woman” i was written by sophocles and then translated by anne carson

Most people are 26 years old

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

When I walk around lately I hope everyone looks at me and sees this

something I very much needed to read today

cannot stop thinking about this tweet… AUGH 😭

i am a big believer in letting music (and other media) come to you when you're ready for it. you may only know vaguely of an acclaimed beloved artist and suspect that you'd be into them but just... not ever get around to it. and then in 15 years one of their songs just hits you the right way and what a gift to suddenly have all of their works to explore! there is no hurry; what is good is always good.

some highlights from hugh grant answering the proust questionnaire in vanity fair.

You know i dont get homoerotically pinned to the wall nearly enough

the first law of tragedies: the end is already written and inevitable. the second law of tragedies: your actions are all your own and you can choose to get off this ride whenever you want. the third law of tragedies: we both know that you are never going to do that.

the front seat of the car is a type of confessional

i genuinely think that physically it’s easier to have hard conversations when you’re both facing forward, not having to look at each other. the catholic church knew this also

id ask God for another youth and id waste it again but in a different cardinal direction this s time

love as recognition

anna gavalda / friedrich nietzsche / clarice lispector / jandy nelson / rebecca perry / mhairi mcfarlane

Your merciful God. He destroyed his own beloved, rather than let a mediocrity share in the smallest part of his glory. He killed Mozart. And kept me alive to torture. 32 years of torture. 32 years of slowly watching myself become extinct.

AMADEUS (1984) dir. Miloš Forman

other social media websites im on are like. hawk tuah girl and mr beast are collabing for a festables event. and tumblr is like. here are my top 10 favorite ants