Artist Unknown. 🖤🥀

Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Joaquin Nin, featured in Reunited: The Correspondence of Anais and Joaquin Nin, 1933-1940

Every time

i hate myself a little extra when i open up to someone.

If life is a blank canvas waiting to be painted, I don't have any colours of my own. Every faint pencil line, every stroke of paint be it black or golden was borrowed. Nothing that makes me who I am is truly my own. I am but a collection of everything that has impacted me deeply, some aspects may be beautiful and some tragic. So to everyone who cared enough to look my way, I may have painted the picture but thank you for letting me dip my brush into your paint by spending time with me and creating memories, even though we didn't know it at the time.

It’s so tempting

backshots this, backshots that, i would like to be taken out back and shot

𝐈𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write