Write About Butterflies, Write About Your Morning, Write About The Cup Of Chai You Had, Write About Your

Alone

by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then – in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life – was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.

poem: if words could find my soulmate

if words could find my soulmate—

oh how much happier

my poems would be;

the stanzas would dance,

the words would flow into verses of song,

they’d be brighter,

they’d be happier;

but alas,

no one wants the girl who sits in the back,

no one wants the poet who is

more alive in her journal than in the world;

but if only my words could find my soulmate,

maybe they’d be content,

because they wouldn’t be alone

anymore.

-j.g. edge

“All I want is a connection in which I receive the same amount of effort as I put in. For once, I don’t want to be drained because I give my everything to someone who can’t even appreciate me.”

- 3am overthinker

loggin back on here, feels like picking up that half read book and continuing with the story line

Shakespeare with these

Lady Macbeth

Mercutio

Hamlet

Horatio

i’m a hopeless romantic with all these ideal scenarios in my head but i’m also terrified of falling in love and trusting someone new.

“i love you.” “it’ll pass.”

is THE single most heartbreaking yet real and intense thing ive ever heard phoebe waller bridge u mastermind u r just like me except a genius fleabag is easily one of the most true to life and wonderfully painful tellings of mistakes that ruin relationships, mental health, religion, the chasms between family members that are caused and fixed by the love u share for them. its about extreme loss and the way that can single-handedly effect the rest of ur life and the way u think and act and how u care for others. its just so real.

this couldn't be more true

no one:

me: feels guilty for not reading, yet still doesn’t read

Berserk (1990) Illustrations: Kentaro Miura

Sappho - translation from Anne Carson’ s “If Not, Winter”