Zenith
I worry. I worry that every man who left me went because of the doors I open after too much wine. I have never owned much, and I’ve never stayed around long, and I never tell anyone I’m going. I, too, tremble a tendency toward chaos, and I fear I’m living a life based on third-drink decisions. I write myself as a drunk and disheveled woman because it’s the only way I know how to keep her at bay. So yes, I use words to avoid my life. But it’s the opposite of hiding.
Third Drink Decisions by Jill Talbot (via therumpus)

(via therumpus)



quietorgasm:

(Source: magazine.nikoand.jp, via inconnumag)


I’m fond of you as I’ve never been of anyone or thing in the world.
— Leonard Woolf, from a letter to Virginia Woolf (via violentwavesofemotion)

» 19 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before I Turned 20 so I Didn’t Waste a Decade:

msmensen:

a list poem for working-class girls trying to grow up and into themselves

1. It is okay to leave anyone and anything and anyplace that makes you feel like shit. It’s hard, but it’s okay. And fuck explaining anything to anyone, unless you want to. Let them fucking wonder.

2….


aseaofquotes:

Nicole Krauss, Great House

aseaofquotes:

Nicole Krauss, Great House

(via aseaofquotes)



nosoysexy:

peachylingerie:

Glow in the dark underwear by Make It Good

I really need this (and a partner willing to wear it).


My heart didn’t break into a thousand pieces after he left. Instead, I realized all the things he didn’t do. He didn’t want to hear my stories. He didn’t ask me questions. He didn’t smile when I was talking to him. He didn’t hug me out of the blue to make me feel good. His hugs were always a preamble to something else, and after he was gone, I wondered if he ever knew me at all.
— Diane Les Becquets (via anal-del-rey)

(Source: wordsthat-speak, via koslick)


It’s a funny thing about the modern world. You hear girls in the toilets of clubs saying, “Yeah, he fucked off and left me. He didn’t love me. He just couldn’t deal with love. He was too fucked up to know how to love me.” Now, how did that happen? What was it about this unlovable century that convinced us we were, despite everything, eminently lovable as a people, as a species? What made us think that anyone who fails to love us is damaged, lacking, malfunctioning in some way?
Zadie Smith (via thatlitsite)

It’s not the changes that will break your heart; it’s that tug of familiarity.
- Jennifer E. Smith, The Statistical Probability Of Love At First Sight (via wreckitsam)

(via thenovl)


Why do we always choose the opposite of what we want? I think, because we don’t want to be dependent. When two people love each other, they don’t love in the same way. One of them is strong, the other is weaker. And the weaker is always the one who loves without reckoning, without reservation. It feels now as if I’ve awakened from some kind of dream after some other kind of life. For some reason, I always offered resistance. I fought against something. I defended myself, just as though I’d had someone else inside me saying: don’t give into anything, don’t go along with anything or you’ll die.
The Sacrifice, dir. by Andrei Tarkovsky, 1986 (via bbook)

(Source: heartvoyage, via bbook)











zenith |ˈzēniθ|
noun
the highest point reached by a celestial or other object


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