gracetowns:

My heart broke. I moved out of home and into the city and I made new friends and I started to realize that no-one is just good or bad, that everyone is both. I started to discover in a profound, scary, blood-aching way who I was when I was alone, what I did when I did things only for myself. I was reckless and graceless and terrifying and tender. I threw sprawling parties and sat in restaurants until the early hours, learning what it’s like to be an adult, even talking like one sometimes, until I caught myself. All I wanted to do was dance. I whispered into ears and let my eyes blaze on high and for the first time I felt this intimate, empire-sized inner power.

Lorde, A NOTE FROM THE DESK OF A NEWBORN ADULT (2016)

(via million-pieces)

nehmesis:

Sea In Winter / Demi Ev.

(via nehmesis)

dostoyevsky:

“‘I exist.’ In thousands of agonies–I exist. I’m tortured on the rack–but I exist! Although I sit alone–I exist! I see the sun, and if I don’t see the sun, I know it’s there. And there’s a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there.”

— The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky (via 1-800-ghoulster)

(via goodnigth)

lifeinpoetry:

I thought I could stop
The incessant hum

By moving from city
To city,

By starving clean
The body.

The miraculous leveling out
Of meaning.

Obsessive archiving and collecting
As a means to stop the tremulating drone

Of memory, the diamond-white
Rush of doom.

— Cynthia Cruz, “Bell in the Water,” Dregs

violentwavesofemotion:

“And earth was honey that babbled and senses were the wind,”

— George Sarandaris, tr. by Kimon Friar, from Modern Greek Poetry; “The Flowers Passed Beyond Sleep,”

(via violentwavesofemotion-deactivat)