Mfs Say “i’m Fine” Then Detach Themselves From Everyone In Their Lives For Weeks. That’s Me,

love as violence

‘i will tell this story to the sun until you remember that you are the sun,’ erin slaughter // roberto ferri // crimson peak (2013) dir. guillermo del toro // the borgias (2011-2013) dir. neil jordan // hiroshima mon amour (1959), marguerite duras // hiroshima mon amour (1959) dir. alain resnais // ‘boyish,’ japanese breakfast // gone girl (2014) dir. david fincher

“I want to rest. I want to breathe quietly again.”

— Tennessee Williams

“The problem with knowledge, is its inexhaustible craving. the more of it you have, the less you feel you know.”

- Olivie Blake , the atlas six

feminine urge to Know Everything and speak 12 languages

Like or reblog if you think it is creepy when a parent sexualizes their child's clothing.

“The second half of a man’s life is made up of nothing but the habits he has accumulated during the first half.”

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Demons

But an unquenchable love for you has never left me...

{Quotes: Alejandra Pizarnik, Approximations/Simone de Beauvoir, from Diary of a Philosophy Student: Volume 2, 1928-9; Sunday, October 7/chen chen, nature poem in ‘when i grow up i want to be a list of further possibilities’/sue zhao/ Sylvia path / Maggie Nelson, Bluets/Richard siken/Ingeborg Bachmann, In the Storm of Roses from ‘The Poem for the Reader’, tr. Mark Anderson ,paintings: pinterest}

Like my mother

Like my mother

Like my mother

I need to be beautiful like my mother.

She's the most beautiful woman to have ever lived. But no one knows that except me because no one else has the same wounds as her like I do which can carry the entire truth of her existence. No one else has cried when she cried, bled when she bled, died when she died.

No one else has inherited her rage.

No one else has inherited her grief.

No one else has inherited her bloodlust.

Except me

So I need to be beautiful like her too.

I'll paint my lips to hide the crimson stains of spitting my own blood.

I'll darken my eyes to hide the bruises from nights spent with mania instead of rest.

I'll pluck out every imperfection in my brow until it no longer furrows for men who do not deserve it.

I'll put kajal on my waterline so whoever makes me cry has to see me in all my horrifying anger.

I'll powder up my cheeks to hide the tears my father never dried and put lotion on the skin that holds the scars from wounds I was too young to heal.

Like my mother did.

Because I need to be beautiful like my mother.

Even if it leaves me lifeless.

She has been lifeless for most of her life too.