from the diaries of franz kafka

what a horrible night to have a curse 💀

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me.

⠀you ask me about love and i tell you about violence . i’m sorry . i thought that’s what love was .

…?

I have fallen sick. But then, I have always been sick, since the day I was born.

half daughter, half apology, all fire and the wrong kind of love.

how come i end up where i started? how come i end up where i went wrong?

i have spent days with the trees. those silent guardians of sorrow.

Terrified that I will come home to a house that no longer knows me

Spring is here and I am lost. Spring is here and I am still cold. Spring is here and in the unearthed sun, I wilt.