My Wildest Dream Is To Have A Wild And Untamed Garden Full Of Flowers And Vines And Pathways And Hidden

Joe Keery for WWD — August 2023

I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now. Movies and books don't tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you're left with memories of what once was. We were friends for a decade and knew each other's diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in '07.

Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?

It's been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

Edit: here's the visualizer for this piece

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠

𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠.

𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢…

♡ xoxo-Suzy ♡

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

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Tied Me To You

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1955. 1966. 1972. No matter how much the world tries to drag them apart, they end up right back where they started. Together.

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Fic announcement! The wonderful @rowanaelinn and I are teaming up to bring you this multichapter! Each chapter is going to be inspired by a different song from Taylor Swift's folklore and evermore, sooo prepare your tissues 😈 it's going to be quite the ride.

We're creating a separate taglist for this fic, so let me know if you'd like to be added!

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~ Prologue : Seven

~ One: ...

~ Two: ...

~ Three: ...

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Ben Barnes | Francesco Carrozzini | Salvatore Ferragamo

reading this paper called the erotics of the axillary pose (aka the arm-up-pit-exposed-facing-the-world pose) and feeling so seen rn

not to be a taylor swift hater on main but if i see a bunch of cis, straight, superficial people getting into dead poets society bc of her new album, im burning everything down. i simply CANNOT allow for the tiktokificatiom of the beautifully crafted space dps fans have created bc the album title sounds like it

slipknot sounds like werewolf lube 

The way our souls lingered for each other – as if they had been separated and sent through the universe in eternal search for their lost part, in constant connection with each other, so that they can find each other again and again. They met under the covers of countless masks, unmasked each other with such intimacy that the pure act of unveiling was a revelation itself. With each collision fragments of long-buried memories became visible, everything that was hidden came to the surface and became decipherable and finally, our two souls merged into one.

"...anyone who really knows mankind might say that there is not one single living human being who does not despair a little, who does not secretly harbour an unrest, an inner strife, a disharmony, an anxiety about an unknown something or a something he dare not even try to know, an anxiety about some possibility in existence or an anxiety about himself..."