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dumbas-writes · 1 month
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you ever feel like you were born with something rotten inside you and if people get close enough they’re gonna find out
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dumbas-writes · 3 months
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Everytime I told a guy about Sylvia plath :
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dumbas-writes · 3 months
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I really want a boyfriend so that I can see if I'm really a loving person or not?
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dumbas-writes · 3 months
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Universe can send someone who can passionately kiss me so atleast I can feel things.
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dumbas-writes · 3 months
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For you, I let my favourite singer change into something absurd that you love. I adore how I used to pretend that I liked the music just to be a little likeable to you. For you, I let my healing romantic movies and love change into something so distinct from my taste. I adore how I used to screenshot all of your favourite movie dialogues just so we could have similar astes. For you, I let my timings be rearranged so I could just have a glimpse of your presence.
Just for you, I understand the other half of myself. I never knew I would do something that would change my tastes. Well, maybe it's this weird little crush on you that whenever I try to be more likeable to you, it all makes sense.
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dumbas-writes · 3 months
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ancient sumerian little girl kicking her legs up in her bedroom imprinting images of gilgamesh and enkidu kissing on her cuneiform clay tablet and then taking it to her mom to bake and preserve it
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dumbas-writes · 3 months
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I'll forever be your "under the sun during winter" feeling.
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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I'm a girl. Of course, I'm going to cut you mid-sentence and ask you the weirdest 'what if' and the strangest 'this or that' questions out of the blue.
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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Sylvia Plath, from “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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isnt it beautiful that we share the same sky? we see the same moon, the same stars, and the same sun. so even if we're on opposite sides of the world, i can still say i love you. through the stars.
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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There's this narrative about people that I have in my head every now & then that revovles around me. Never too fond of people and always considered myself as a walking misanthrope yet sometimes I happen to reconsider my assumptions in my head again.
but how much I hate when some seemingly nice people come along my way and I happen to think the other way for a split second. Maybe it's the way people treat me. I always considered connections to be something we bond over years but how can someone justify the people I met a year ago to be hospitable enough to look after me every day. It's the series of services in the name of friendship like making peanut jelly sandwiches or oiling your hair selflessly. Giving out flowers to make your day happy. Dressing you up before them to look the prettiest.There's no maybe's, it's the act of services they assure you.
how can I forget the capable emotional support friends. Like just a call and they be coming over just to spend the rest of the evening with you. Also, randomly hugging you whenever things turn the other way. Bringing you, your favorite food. If I sit and thing about all those series of services, it might take the whole day. But for the better, I feel grateful for having those people around me.
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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the feminine urge to have a deep rage inside of you that doesn’t go away
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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Katherine Mansfield, from a letter to J. M. Murry written c. December 1919
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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sometimes people are so cute like you're aimlessly standing there doing your thing but a certain individual from across the room looks deeply into you. You can sense that individual staring at your every curve and niches of your face but you let them. You let them adore your face, you.
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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‘Lamia and the Soldier‘ by John William Waterhouse, c. 1905.
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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dumbas-writes · 4 months
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the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.
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