i feel like all i do is watch people and notice all the beautiful things about them and try to understand them fully and no one does that for me … sometimes i feel like i’m just a mirror to reflect people back to themselves. a vessel for love and that’s it… i make everyone else into poetry and no one else sees me the way i see them it’s so depressing
i am inherently unlovable. i have to morph myself into something im not just to be easily digestable and even then im met with hesitation. no one will ever love me the way i love them i need to get that through my stupid fucking head already because thinking otherwise is slowly killing me
— Frank O'Hara (via lunamonchtuna)
[ Text ID: It's a bright summer day, and I want to be / wanted more than anything else in the world. ]
The story of a marble worker Evrard Flignot from Brussels who devastated by the death of his wife built a pretty mausoleum for her in Cimetière de Laeken.
At first look inside, there is a mourner reaching out to an empty wall. But, once a year, on the day of the summer solstice, the Sun draws a light that recalls this love for almost a century.
