I Try To Fight It, But Some Days It Is Really Hard

Your inside is on your outside

Bernhard Schlink, The Reader (translated by Carol Brown Janeway)

jane prentiss wip.

my cat is fucking UP the dsm5 like her hungry ass

zgniłe w środku

Teresa Margolles, Vaporization, 2002 — a room filled with disinfected water vapor from cleaning bodies in morgues in Mexico City — part of the exhibition Mexico City: An Exhibition about the Exchange Rates of Bodies and Values, MOMA PS1, Queens

Jane O. Wayne // Kate Jacobs

wugh this one was a trip but I’m mostly happy with it so yibbie !!!

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wanderlust_nyctophilia

I think something that often gets overlooked about the Lonely is that it isn’t just the fear of being rejected, abandoned, and unloved.

It is that, but it’s also the heavy sense of dread that settles in your bones when you realize that whatever danger you’re in, you have to deal with it on your own. It’s the realization that no one is around to hear you scream and that no one is coming to save you. It’s the feeling of calling emergency services (911, 119, etc.) and asking the operator when help is coming, only to be told that no one is coming, because they’re all tied up on other calls right now, so it may be another hour or so before anyone gets to you. It’s the visceral terror you feel when you finally realize that the help you need is never going to come, or if it does, they won’t be there until it’s already too late for you. It’s realizing that you’ll never see your loved ones again, and wondering if anyone will ever find your body, if anyone is going to care that you’re gone, if anyone is ever going to find out what happened to you, if anyone is even going to realize that you’re dead.