Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary, August 1921

this is targeted

Bestie. You need therapy. Not a Fae prince with midnight hair and razor sharp jawline who hates you because he thinks of you. Often. It's disgusting, and he can't stop.

But I am a star. I feel that I am a star. Shattered. I am a shard of glass on the ground.

Clarice Lispector, from A Breath of Life

Velimir Khlebnikov, from The Collected Works of Velimir Khlebnikov; “Lyrics,”

*girl on the brink of self destruction* i miss academia

how do I explain to my friend that in the last ten pages of tsh, the alcoholic shoots the druggy, we find out that the incestuous sister of the alcoholic was hooking up with the homicidal sociopath, and that homicidal sociopath shoots himself in the head partly because his narcissistic father figure ran off to the Middle East unexpectedly, and the druggy survives the gunshot wound but hallucinates the paranoid victim of a murder that this group commited a few months prior along with a bunch of other dead people while he’s in the hospital, and then somehow everyone brushes this whole ordeal off as if it were completely normal

Morning Star by Alphonse Mucha (1902)

Virginia Woolf, from The Complete Works; “Carlyle’s House and Other Sketches,”

me, in any given conversation, redirecting the subject to greek mythology:

Regular Lovers (Les Amants réguliers), dir. Philippe Garrel (2005) (via lunamonchtuna)