Ruins-of-her-peace - On Monachopsis, Hiraeth And Dreadful Sensibility

𝑫𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅

𝑶𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒅?

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒕?

𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐯𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞

it’s just me and the unrealistic scenarios in my head against the world

“November at its best - with a sort of delightful menace in the air.”

— Anne Bosworth Greene

Who are you? Why do you embrace me so? How is it you're never absent? Why is it you're never leaving? How is it your arms are so heavy on my chest when you're only skin and bones in a shadow veil? How is it you speak with voices of so many without a tongue to form the words? How is it you scream; how is it you howl without opening your mouth? Why do you cling to me, say that you belong with me? How is it I don't even know your name but you know my every thought? How is it I've never seen your face when you're always by my side, holding my hand, guiding me like a child? Why do I follow? How is it I let you? What are you?

Emily Yvonne, fragments of my mind

male characters are at their most relatable when they have a weakness for insane women

For I am consumed with longing for you.

Ingeborg Bachmann, In the Storm of Roses from ‘The Poem for the Reader’, tr. Mark Anderson