“I am the self-portrait of a woman. She is flimsy as Tolstoy’s Karenina, brown hair tangled at the back, her lips softly parted (…)”
— excerpt of “Portrait”, Demi Ev.
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“It is delicious to be anonymous on a foreign city street.”
— Jennifer Grotz, from “Self-Portrait on the Street of an Unnamed Foreign City,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)
“I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly.”
— A Self-Portrait in Letters, Anne Sexton
I don’t know why the hell I’m writing you. I must like to, or something. I think I pretend you are real.
