Writing sometimes feels like a strange disorder you just kind of cope with by being creative. Like your brain randomly decides to dump a million-piece puzzle in front of you and says, 'Solve this or we will never think of anything else, ever.' You toil away for years and by some miracle you solve it, and it's the most fulfilling, exhilarating feeling in the world. It's perfect. You did it. And your brain is like, 'OK, here's my idea for three sequels and a spinoff.'
slaymare moon
– Virginia Woolf, from a Letter to Violet Dickinson written c. January 1909
[TEXT ID: "I appreciate your concern. None of this is your fault. It's me. It's me and my head. / In winter, I collapse." END ID]
No no you don't understand! I want to watch this show/movie, read this book, listen to this podcast, etc.! But I must be in the right mindset and the exact head space to begin, or I just can't!
saying “i want him” about the character but not in a romantic or sexual way . i just Require him i need to Obtain him
I need this fellow in my life. I want to clutch the lad to my chest and give ‘em a big ol bear hug.
i made a big clodsire plush
she's ready to watch the minecraft movie 💚✨
i go to bars and coffee shops and breweries and libraries and thrift stores all the time by myself and i have a chill banger time i love my own company. so why is the grocery store a warzone. im fighting for my life. barely make it out alive. if someone even looks at me i want to blow them up with my mind
You ever hear that old chestnut about how most people neglect the part of the story of Icarus where he also had to avoid flying too low, lest the spray of the sea soak his feathers and cause him to fall and drown? You ever think about how different the world would be if Icarus died that way instead? If the idiom was to Fly To Close To The Sea? A warning against playing it far too safe, about not stretching your wings and soaring properly? You ever think about how Icarus died because he was happy?