onlinecounsellingcollege:

“I wanted to write down exactly what I felt but somehow the paper stayed empty … And I could not have described it any better.”

— unknown

violentwavesofemotion:

Pay attention to what feels contradictory, infinite, unspoken and hard to define

I want to live. 

punlovsin:

“1. To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair.”

— Arundhati Roy

010180000:

Reading List: Favorite Essays by Women on Women (or Other)

Managing Hearts with Kim and Flo, Bea Malsky

We R Cute Shoplifters*, Tasbeeh Herwees

Morbidity and The Minature*, Elizabeth Metzeger

Meet Justin Bieber!*, Zadie Smith

Do No Harm, Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

Sick Woman Theory, Johanna Hedva

The Death of The Moth & On Being Ill*, Virginia Woolf

The Promise of Misery*, Becca Rothfeld

Time After Capitalism, Miya Tokumitsu

Ode To The Library Museum, Erica X Eisen

And This Is How I Will Remember You, Mehreen Kasana

Self-Care as Warfare*, Sara Ahmed (See Also: Audre Lorde’s A Burst of Light & Other Essays)

The Fairytale Language of The Brothers Grimm, Chi Luu

White Magic, Lou Cornum

ecrituria:

“I feel that plants are alive, very alive, and yet prisoners. They can’t move, they can’t seek shelter, they can’t escape clippers, hatchets, saws. They inspire pity and so I feel they are designated victims—an emblem, perhaps, of all the victims on this planet. But a precisely opposite feeling is grafted on to my sense of pity. Their expansion worries me. They are prisoners and yet they extend, twist, creep their way in, break the stone. Their roots grow deeper and deeper; they try to send them elsewhere. Maybe it’s that contrast that disorients me; they have in themselves a blind force that doesn’t fit with their cheerful colours, their pleasing scents. At the first opportunity, they manage to get back everything that was taken from them, dissolving the shapes that we have imposed by domesticating them. […] At times I suspect that I devote myself to plants in this way because I’m afraid of them. But then I should admit I’ve assigned to vegetation a symbolism that applies to any form of life. We appreciate it, we love it—until, bursting the boundaries that our authority has set, it overflows.”

— Elena Ferrante on her love of plants

imasmallchild:

I don’t have a train of thought I have seven trains on 4 tracks that narrowly avoid each other when the paths cross and all the conductors are screaming

lifeinpoetry:

Forgive
this woman who’s crumbling inside,
but whose eyelids tingle still with dreams of light,
whose useless hair still quivers hopelessly,
infiltrated by love’s breath.

— Forugh Farrokhzad, from “Forgive Her,” tr. Sholeh Wolpé, Sin: Selected Poems of Forugh Farrokhzad