another really long week.

i’m keeping it close, because i don’t know where i may need to borrow from as it continues swinging. and i hate that. silence is hard, and sad, too, when riding upon necessity. i look only to the lull that must come as the next wave gathers itself to spring. 

The will itself is still a prisoner. Willing liberates; but what is it that puts even the liberator himself in fetters? ‘It was’—that is the name of the will’s gnashing of teeth and most secret melancholy. Powerless […] The will cannot will backwards; and that he cannot break time and time’s covetousness, that is the will’s loneliest melancholy.

Friedrich Nietzsche, from Thus Spoke Zarathustra (via violentwavesofemotion)

October. Staaahp. I don’t know how much more of this I can bear. No more false promises. No more wither. 🔥😓☔️

October. Staaahp. I don’t know how much more of this I can bear. No more false promises. No more wither. 🔥😓☔️