one thing i need to start living by is “become the thing that you want” if i want friends who throw themed parties maybe i should start throwing those parties. if i want someone who writes me love letters maybe i should start writing letters for the people i love. if i want to hang out at museums and pretty cafes maybe i should invite my friends to these places. and maybe even then i won’t find the kind of people i want to be around. but then i would have become the exact person i want to be around. and maybe that’s good enough.
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If reincarnation is real I wonder how many people stare at their own art in museums, listen to their own music they made in a different life and read books they don't remember writing
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Stop shaming people for being passionate about the things that they love. Stop mocking people for having unusual interests. Like, honestly, I’m so tired of feeling embarrassed for being "too much". If being too much means having deep interests that fill my life with romanticism and excitement, then let me be!! I’d much rather listen to anyone ranting about their latest obsession with 16th century swords than have a boring ordinary conversation with those who shame passionate people.
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"What do you do for a living?"
Oh I am a professional hopeless romantic and I read books and cry in my free time.
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July 20, 1925
Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927
[volume 3]
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Belle époque mood in Café Amelie of New Orleans || IG
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When Mary Shelly wrote "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other" god I really felt that
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"So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me for I, too, am fluent in silence."
– R. Arnold
"I'm a master of speaking silently—all my life I've spoken silently and I've lived through entire tragedies in silence."
– Fyodor Dostoyevsky
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fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i can’t be loved, swallowed or digested. must i make myself smaller?’
[text id: this thought was unceasing: somewhere must be home. / the spine-folding need to belong was woven into my skin. no amount of clawing could ever get it out. / it scared me that even at my very best, i wouldn’t be able to stop myself from being fond of the tearing. isn't mauling touch? the warmth of a hand close to you, right before is tears you apart, is something.]
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