Red Letter No. 8 by Jen Mazza
True
“I treat myself like I would my daughter. I brush her hair, wash her laundry, tuck her in goodnight. Most importantly, I feed her. I do not punish her. I do not berate her, leave tears staining her face. I do not leave her alone. I know she deserves more. I know I deserve more.”
— Michelle K., I Know I Deserve More. (via sadlittlewords)
all i'm saying is that sexy people isolate themselves from everyone and listen to music, read books and sleep to avoid their problems because existing in general is unbearable.
Strolling aimlessly in a bookshop is selfcare
life is very simple you see. the goal is to look at good things (your personal email which contains tracking info on your packages) and not look at bad things (your work email that contains evil messages)
The Temptress, Jack Vettriano
Night notes, Islington. February 2021.
— Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
fuck it. be creative even if you never really *make* anything. write out plot synopses of stories and then move on. design OCs you'll never use. make mood boards and concept art and don't do anything with them. life's too short to forget everything that inspired you and creation doesn't have to be "complete" to be worth the time you put into it.
“Let it die. Let there be a new beginning. It’s awful. Goodnight.”
— Charles Bukowski
I feel like holly in breakfast at tiffany’s
pretending to be glamorous while our lives fall apart around us
driving people away because we don’t know who we are or what we’re doing
having a series of mental breakdowns, losing the one thing you love, regretting everything
crying in the rain in a back alleyway of the city
sylvia plath once wrote in her journal 'if i get through this year, no matter how badly, it will be the biggest victory i've ever done' and if that's not a mood for 2020 i don't know what is.
“you smell good“ ok fuck me
part of me wants to live a calm life, living in a small light house in New England and drink too much tea while writing flowery poetry about the mysterious strangers in the grey, sea salt scented town. another part of me wants to live in a mountain tucked village in Switzerland, owning sheep and cats and traveling across Europe every summer with my dog, reading books and keeping secrets. the third part of my soul wants to live in an apartment crammed city in the sixties, writing books and living in crowded apartments with artists who smoke and swear and throw extravagant parties and witness the growth of a culture. all of me wants to live