Q: Should I get back on this this Foolish Website
My kink is having absolutely no one from high school know anything about me or what I’m doin now lmao
How can another see into me, into my most secret self, without my being able to see in there myself and without my being able to see him in me? And if my secret self, that which can be revealed only to the other, to the wholly other, to God if you wish, is a secret that I will never reflect on, that I will never know or experience or possess as my own, then what sense is there in saying that it is “my” secret, or in saying more generally that a secret belongs, that it is proper to or belongs to some “one,” or to some other who remains someone? It is perhaps there that we find the secret of secrecy, namely, that it is not a matter of knowing and that it is there for no-one. A secret doesn’t belong, it can never be said to be at home or in its place [chez soi]. […] The question of the self: “who am I?” not in the sense of “who am I” but “who is this ‘I’ ” that can say “who”? What is the “I,” and what becomes of responsibility once the identity of the “I” trembles in secret?
Jacques Derrida, The Gift of Death
(via nemophilies)
(via nemophilies)
Margaret Burroughs - Black Venus (1957)
“Burroughs had a vision of doing more to preserve black heritage. With her husband, Burroughs converted the ground floor of their old Chicago mansion into a small museum in which they could display a variety of artifacts. More than 500 people toured the museum during its first year. Heartened by the public’s interest, Burroughs devoted herself to raising funds for the museum. She firmly believed that this museum would enrich lives, especially those of young black people. “A museum …shows kids they can be somebody,” Burroughs stated in Black Enterprise.
By emphasizing the cultural and racial roots of black people, Burroughs hoped to teach young people that not only could they be somebody but that they came from a proud and strong black heritage. Besides serving as a repository for black art, papers, artifacts, and memorabilia, the museum also met the needs of its visitors with youth activities, essay contests, art festivals, and poetry festivals. By 1970, museum attendance was more than 30,000 annually.” [Source]
u ever think about how ur skeleton is always wet
do you accept constructive criticism on your posts
this is so real though!! we think about bone-dry bones but our relationship with our own bones is wet wet wet. they are also the birthplace of blood. important info for those into somatics.
i am comforted by the thought of my dripping wet skeleton, a fountain of blood in the shape of being metal as fuck
Reasons are not automatically excuses
Reasons are not automatically excuses
Reasons are not automatically excuses
Correct:
“i’m so sorry I hurt you like that. I’m really struggling with my mental illness. That doesn’t make it okay, but that’s just the reason why I’m being like this. I’m sorry for being a dick.
Disgusting:
“um, well I have depression so you should stop hating on me and cut me a break. I can do whatever I want.”
Reasons are not automatically excuses.
Correct:
“sorry that I lashed out. My sister is in hospital and I’m really messed up about it. I’ve been pretending I’m fine about it and then I took everything out on you. I’m really sorry.”
Disgusting:
“lol um,, my sister is in HOSPITAL with CANCER so u should get off my back and stop being mean to me because im, like, so totally upset”
Reasons are not automatically excuses.
