I keep losing. I miss my friend, I know someone I know is gonna die soon. I dont want to be alive anymore. One of my alive friends told me their life is better without me. I cant take this anymore

im so close to killing myself its not even funny

my parents are trump supporters and my mom said its really hard for her to know im so shitty that she wishes i was my friend instead, i like this song

Now I'm completely sure that I'm not a human being, but a cast from Mitski's songs.I love Mitski.🥹⭐

I don't know how to feel abt this song. It made me cry, but not one of those loud sobbing cries, one of those silent, eye burning, lump-in-your-throat cries as you try to not let anyone else hear you crying. I was having a rough day, but this song made it worse but better in a way.

Mitski-Circle

Mitski - Wife

Mitski - Because Dreaming Costs Money My Dear

Roadkill

Buy Song

Tear Me Apart

8 minutos

Bury Me At Makeout Creek

I Will

Puberty 2

Happy

Last Words of a Shooting Star

Be the Cowboy

Pink in the Night

Mitski - Class of 2013

Sometimes, Mitski feels life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what’s truly hers, what can’t be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. “The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people,” she says. “I wish I could leave behind all the love I have after I die, so I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I’ve created onto other people.” She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will shine love long after she’s gone. That’s precisely how it feels: like a love that’s haunting the land.

“This is my most American album,” she says. The music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. Sonically Mitski’s most epic and wise album, the songs introduce wounds and then actively heal them. Here, love is time-traveling to bless our tender days, like light from a distant star.

It's full of the ache of the grown-up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It’s a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything and everyone is crying out in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning and then rejecting us. To love this place, this earth, this America, this body takes work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Last Words of a Shooting Star

Mitski

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