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''It's more difficult to pretend that you do have feelings when you don't ,than to pretend you don't have feelings when you do.''

The Lobster (2015) ; Dir: Yorgos Lanthimos

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“I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don't have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn't play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn't watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you're forced to react. No one asks if it is true or false, if you're genuine or just a sham. Such things matter only in the theatre, and hardly there either. I understand why you don't speak, why you don't move, why you've created a part for yourself out of apathy. I understand. I admire. You should go on with this part until it is played out, until it loses interest for you. Then you can leave it, just as you've left your other parts one by one.”

Persona (1966)

Dir: Ingmar Bergman.

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Genieve Figgis (Irish, b. 1972, Dublin, Ireland, based County Wicklow, Ireland) - House / Reflection, 2015  Paintings: Acrylics on Canvas

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via weheartit

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“She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation.”

— Margaret Atwood (via quotemadness)

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by Yasmine’s Utopy

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yesterday i met a drunk man in the streets of my favorite city in the world. he runs up to me. clutches me by the arm. looks me in the face. and tells me “i hope you marry the love of your life.” i laugh kindly, dismissing his words, dripping with hennessy, for drunken ramblings. i continue to roll down the concrete street that smells like coffee breath and dreams far too large to entertain and wonder where you are. is california being kind to you? do you ever think about me when you’re alone, when you are lonely, when the smoke and the sunlight and the strobe lights fail to chase away your thoughts like you’d always hope they would? do you remember when we found each other in being lost? when we were far too young to recognize the line between love and the idea of it? do you still want me? would you ever admit it? because the truth is we found each other trying to lose ourselves, and when i lost you, every day was a battle against your absence. i collapsed over you. i shed so much ink out of my pen it started to look like blood spilling out of my veins and as the months went on, i began not to care about the difference. i saw your eyes in hennessy bottles and rain that flung itself onto concrete and in every person in who saw my beauty and treated it with apathy. i mistook the end of our love for the end of love itself. i told myself i’d never find someone who cared like you, spoke like you, penetrated my mind like you. i told myself you were the last person to ever mean more than a night, a month, a kiss, or a regret to me. but you were never the ending of anything. i never should’ve been angry at you, because you were the beginning of all the love in my life. you were the first to show me i had the capability to cut myself open and spill open without a weapon. you were the first to show me i could fall in love without effort and my mind had room to fit the reality of someone else inside of its own drunken ramblings. thank you. thank you for showing me it is possible. thank you for finding me everywhere as a constant reminder. thank you for making me admire brown eyes again. thank you for allowing my limbs to grow in the absence of your skin. thank you for leading me to the person who will become the love of my life. i hope california is being kind to you. i hope i was kind to you. i hope you marry the love of your life.

— we found each other in trying to lose ourselves (ap 12.18.18)

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