A Great Sorrow, And One That I Am Only Beginning To Understand: We Dont Get To Choose Our Own Hearts.

“A great sorrow, and one that I am only beginning to understand: we don’t get to choose our own hearts. We can’t make ourselves want what’s good for us or what’s good for other people. We don’t get to choose the people we are.”

— Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

A year in fragments

i. Jenny Xie, from Eye Level: Poems; “Zuihitsu” ii. February 1, 1922, The Diaries of Franz Kafka iii. March 5, 1922, The Diaries of Franz Kafka iv. F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Sensible Thing v. Charlotte Brontë  — Jane Eyre vi. John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent vii. Charlotte Brontë  — Jane Eyre viii. Raymond Carver ix. James Baldwin, Just Above My Head// Lea Malot x. L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables xi. Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Elizabeth Holland (early November 1865) xii. Natalie Diaz, “Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.” Postcolonial Love Poem

5 poems about gay teenage sexual experimentation

marie howe, “practicing,” 1998

ocean vuong, “on earth we’re briefly gorgeous” (excerpt), from night sky with exit wounds, 2014

angie sijun lou, “jessica gives me a chill pill” (excerpt), 2018

danez smith, “seroconversion,” from don’t call us dead, 2017

richard siken, “you are jeff” (excerpt), from crush, 2005

Y'all ever have a dream that is so completely on-the-nose that you're just like. Okay subconscious, yes, I get it, that doesn't help but thanks for the reminder.

Mu And CoCo on Instagram / Etsy

The world is quiet here.