“Excuse me,” said a wandering spirit. “There aren’t any…banned books here, are there?”
The ghost librarian sighed.
“Look around. Everything here is banned, for one reason or another. Banned by the living and condemned to this dead library.”
The wandering spirit looked around in awe.
“All this? But, there are so many. What is left for the living to read?”
“Nothing.”
just write a shitty poem, what do you have to lose
To everyone reblogging this and saying something like “my dignity,” may I submit this very good and accurate tweet
ghost apple
I am also
transparent
and hollow
the fear of sharing your work not because you're worried people will hate it or mock it or think it's terrible...but instead that it will elicit nothing from them. that it will be unremarkable. that it won't matter to anyone but you
“if no art makes you feel anything, make your own art and feel something” is too raw of a line to have come from a jenna marbles video of her painting a rainbow/polka dot seahorse saying “it’s seahorse time” on a denim jacket
Why do you people feel profound thought has to come from high places? The gutter looks at the stars too
not only did you prove your point, but you showed an example of it in the same sentence
badndngirl
daisywords
mishastoesies
starseekrr
greenycrimson
eternal-fractal