๐‘น๐’†๐’‡๐’๐’†๐’„๐’•๐’Š๐’๐’
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โ˜†โ‹†.หš๐Ÿƒโ‹†โœฎโ‹†ห™๏ฝก๐–ฆนยฐโ€งโ˜…
ู†ุฏุงุก ู…ุฑุขุฉ ูˆู†ุฏู‰ ุงู†ุนูƒุงุณู‡ุง
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I wonder what's the difference between a beast and a monster
I am always between two worlds, always in conflict.
I would like sometimes to rest, to be at peace, to choose a nook, make a final choice, but I can't.
Some nameless, undescribable fear and anxiety keeps me on the move. On certain evenings like this, I would like to feel whole.

โ€”Anaรฏs Nin, the diary of Anaรฏs Nin, vol I November 1932
โค4
โค5
Almost everything in this channel reflects me
There's a reason for it to be named Reflection
I don't believe in sharing random shit
โค3
ู…ู†ุธุฑ ูŠุณุฑ ุงู„ุงู†ุธุงุฑ
โค4
He came for his march
โค2
I be collecting husbands
โค6
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Forwarded from GASOLINE (๐“ฃ๐“ฑ๐“ฎ ๐“๐“ป๐“ฌ๐“ฑ๐“ฎ๐“ป โ˜€๏ธŽ๏ธŽโฅ๏ธŽ)
ููŽุณูุจู’ุญูŽุงู†ูŽ ุงู„ู‘ูŽุฐููŠ ุจููŠูŽุฏูู‡ู ู…ูŽู„ูŽูƒููˆุชู ูƒูู„ู‘ู ุดูŽูŠู’ุกู ูˆูŽุฅูู„ูŽูŠู’ู‡ู ุชูุฑู’ุฌูŽุนููˆู†ูŽ
๐Ÿ’˜4
Forwarded from ๐‘น๐’†๐’‡๐’๐’†๐’„๐’•๐’Š๐’๐’ (๐Œ๐š๐ก๐ข๐ซ๐ฎ)
ุงู„ู„ู‘ู‡ู… ูŠุง ุญูŠ ูŠุง ู‚ูŠูˆู… ูŠุง ุฐูˆ ุงู„ุฌู„ุงู„ ูˆุงู„ุฅูƒุฑุงู…ุŒ ุงู‡ุฏู†ุง ููŠ ู…ู† ู‡ุฏูŠุชุŒ ูˆุนุงูู†ุง ููŠ ู…ู† ุนุงููŠุชุŒ ูˆุงู‚ุถู ุนู†ู‘ุง ุจุฑุญู…ุชูƒ ุดุฑู‘ ู…ุง ู‚ุถูŠุชุŒ ุฅู†ู‘ูƒ ุชู‚ุถูŠ ุจุงู„ุญู‚ ูˆู„ุง ูŠู‚ุถู‰ ุนู„ูŠูƒุŒ ุขู…ู†ุง ุจูƒุชุงุจูƒ ุงู„ุฐูŠ ุฃู†ุฒู„ุชุŒ ูˆุจู†ุจูŠูƒ ุงู„ุฐูŠ ุฃุฑุณู„ุชุŒ ูุงุบูุฑ ู„ู†ุง ู…ุง ู‚ุฏู‘ู…ู†ุง ูˆู…ุง ุฃุฎู‘ุฑู†ุงุŒ ูˆู…ุง ุฃุณุฑุฑู†ุง ูˆู…ุง ุฃุนู„ู†ู‘ุงุŒ ูˆู…ุง ุฃู†ุช ุจู‡ ุฃุนู„ู…ุŒ ุฃู†ุช ุงู„ู…ู‚ุฏู… ูˆุฃู†ุช ุงู„ู…ุคุฎุฑ ูˆุฃู†ุช ุนู„ู‰ ูƒู„ ุดูŠุก ู‚ุฏูŠุฑ.
โค2
๐‘น๐’†๐’‡๐’๐’†๐’„๐’•๐’Š๐’๐’
Photo
from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaรฏs Nin and Henry Miller | 1932 - 1953
Henry sounds familiar
Think I got myself in trouble
So I fill the bath with bubbles
Then I'll put the towels all away
Should've never said the word "love"
Threw a toaster in the bathtub
I'm sick of all the games I have to play
I feel it coming out my throat
Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap
God, I wish I never spoke
๐Ÿ’˜4
๐‘น๐’†๐’‡๐’๐’†๐’„๐’•๐’Š๐’๐’
Thread; a mere dream
She usually takes a very deep breath out her poison before striking her prey
I asked her one day why does she do that
She said with the most satisfied smile "poison smells like victory"
She's half wrong
Poison smells like victory to her
Like defeat to her preys
For me.. it has no scent