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If you have pushed yourself to know more and do better you have placed yourself on the path to become exquisite. You don’t owe this cultivated self to just anyone who demands it. You have pushed yourself. You have read difficult books. You have gone without sleep. They have to at least match you before they can even begin to think of having you give them this energy. The best rule is that a person has to bench press at least 500 pounds and have read at least 100 pages of Proust to be worth you. Anything you give is exactly that, a gift and not a right. You don’t owe. You don’t owe. You don’t owe.

Dig Yourself (via howitzerliterarysociety)
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  • 27 minutes ago
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I stay cool, and dig all jive,
That’s the way I stay alive.
My motto,
as I live and learn,
Dig and be dug
In return.

Langston Hughes (via blackqueerboi)

First Teachers

(via howitzerliterarysociety)
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We are forced to hide so much of ourselves, from people we encounter two seconds out of everyday, from people who decide who we are and what we can do. Some of you, you have an idea of yourself and you don’t follow it. You kill it before it hatches. Who taught you this? Where did you learn it from? You live your life and spread the same idea that people hold over you, that it’s impossible, that people don’t change, when change is the only thing you can guarantee. You spread the same idea that was spread over you, and when you see someone who rejects it and who listens to that clean sound within themselves you become angry and start biting. Such a waste of yourself, of who you can be. I was this way. I was nothing. I had mental breakdowns. I was everything worthless. And it was a combination of reasons. Like everyone, a mixture of abuse from others and my own choices. It wasn’t until I had enough of myself and I formed a vision of who I wanted to be that life changed. Not until then. So I don’t blow smoke. I’m my own experiment. It really is possible. It’s hard as fuck. It takes a long ass time. You get tired as shit. But it is possible. Have that idea about yourself at least. I’m not some brother or uncle or mentor or whatever. I’m a dude kicking up out of muck saying to you, it’s possible.

Dig Yourself
Do Epic Shit (via howitzerliterarysociety)
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…and now you can’t separate me from the person you’ve imagined me to be. You call that, I suppose, being in love, as a matter of fact it’s being in delusion.

Virginia Woolf (via rasputinmaxim)
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Fuck this shit. This year I am giving myself a curfew/bedtime.

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If people make you feel like you’re hard to love, they shouldn’t be in your life.

M.R. (via ambertriangles)
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  • 40 minutes ago
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I let alphabets cling to me
as I climb the thread of language
between myself and the world.
I muster crowds in my mouth:
suspended between language and the world,
between the world and the alphabets.

I let my head
listen to the myth,
to all sides praising each other.
And I shout at the winds from the top of a mountain.

Why does my tongue tell me to climb this far?
What is the distance between my voice and my longing?
What is there?

Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi, from “A Body,” translated by Atef Alshaer and Sarah Maguire, Poetry Translation Centre (via apoetreflects)
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  • 41 minutes ago
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The writer is either a practicing recluse or a delinquent, guilt-ridden one. Or both. Usually both.

Susan Sontag (via honorintegritysacrifice)
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