logically I know nothing matters and everything is temporary but emotionally I am crushed by the weight of everything that has ever happened to me and ever will happen

i always wanted to send you a letter, but only to tell you how unlovable you made me feel. i’m still trying to shake off this feeling years later.

A poem, an exercise in omitting letters.

by Thomas Penny

1959 Cadillac Sedan de Ville. Part 1. (Part 2. – interior details)

Photo: me

Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1955–1966”

here is this sketch in full because I never posted that

A couple months ago, someone taught me newlyweds used to plant sycamore trees on both sides of a walkway leading to their house, then join them together to symbolize two becoming one. Today I saw it for the first time. (by frique)

Her

— Voltaire

y'all are invited to my funeral. bring your phones & you’ll each read one of my posts out loud & realize it was good that i died

The Waves, Virginia Woolf

[ID: I do not know. I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count out the grains that make me what I am.]