⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷
　　⠈⠻⣿⡛⠉⠭⠉⠉⢉⣿⣿⣧
⠲⣶⠖⠄⠄⢿⣿⠄⠶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧
　　　⠺⢿⡗⠄⣹⣿⣿⠿⣟⣿⡏
　　　　⠤⠤⢾⣿⣿⣿⣦⠘⡿
　　⠈⢻⡿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣶⣦
　　　⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟
　　　⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿



Adding people to expand my list if I like their name/profile picture/think they're funny in a game

If there were no eternal consciousness in a man, if at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment, a power that twisting in dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential; if an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything, what would life be but despair?

me (clicc)

When you can't sleep because you thinking about her;

The young composer, working that summer at an artist’s colony, had watched her for a week. She was
Japanese, a painter, almost sixty, and he thought he was in love with her. He loved her work, and her
work was like the way she moved her body, used her hands, looked at him directly when she mused and
considered answers to his questions. One night, walking back from a concert, they came to her door and
she turned to him and said, “I think you would like to have me. I would like that too, but I must tell you
that I have had a double mastectomy,” and when he didn’t understand, “I’ve lost both my breasts.” The
radiance that he had carried around in his belly and chest cavity-like music-withered quickly, and he
made himself look at her when he said, “I’m sorry I don’t think I could.” He walked back to his own cabin
through the pines, and in the morning he found a small blue bowl on the porch outside his door. It
looked to be full of rose petals, but he found when he picked it up that the rose petals were on top; the
rest of the bowl- she must have swept the corners of her studio-was full of dead bees.

░░░░░░█▐▓▓░████▄▄▄█▀▄▓▓▓▌█
░░░░░▄█▌▀▄▓▓▄▄▄▄▀▀▀▄▓▓▓▓▓▌█
░░░▄█▀▀▄▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▀░▓▌█
░░█▀▄▓▓▓███▓▓▓███▓▓▓▄░░▄▓▐█▌
░█▌▓▓▓▀▀▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▄▀▓▓▐█
▐█▐██▐░▄▓▓▓▓▓▀▄░▀▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▌█▌
█▌███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▐░░▄▓▓███▓▓▓▄▀▐█
█▐█▓▀░░▀▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▐█
▌▓▄▌▀░▀░▐▀█▄▓▓██████████▓▓▓▌█▌
▌▓▓▓▄▄▀▀▓▓▓▀▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓█▓█▓▓▌█▌
█▐▓▓▓▓▓▓▄▄▄▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓█▓█




A silk thread spun by a spider
Is hanging from the ceiling
Just above my bed.
Every day I notice it
Descending lower.
Now I am even offered
The ladder to Heaven – I say
It comes from ‘up there’.
Although I had lost weight to the point
Where I am only the spectre of my former self
I believe that my body
May be too heavy
For this delicate ladder.
You, soul of mine, I think that you ought to go first.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter!