Imagining Moving In With A Lover And Mixing My Books With Their Books In Our Bookshelves... Might Faint

i personally love to over analyze everything and suffer

College gothic

the water in the showers turns cold. your fingers are turning purple. your teeth are chattering. you have not touched the knob. the water in the shower starts burning you. welts rise on your skin. there is no air, only steam. you have not touched the knob.

“Good morning” someone says. it is 7:30. “Good morning” someone says. it is 1 in the afternoon. “Good morning.” Someone says. It’s nearly midnight. “Good morning.” you reply.

you are going home this weekend. you were just home. you have not been home in months. cobwebs grow over the pictures of you. cloth is draped over the furniture in your room.

the days drag by. the days go so fast they blur into one another. what month is it? you do not know. you have class.

you’re so tired. your hands are shaking. you’re buzzing with the caffeine of your fifth coffee. the words of your textbook are blurring in front of your eyes. someone asks you if you are okay. what is okay? you are tired.

“I don’t have any finals” someone says to you. horns erupt from your head. wings sprout from your back. you shriek loudly at them, a bloodcurdling sound that cracks the windows. “lucky”

“Sign up for the acapella group!” “sign up for chess club!” “sign up for magic the gathering club!” they all meet at the same time. they all have the same four members. “i can’t,” you say “I have class.” they look at you like you have five heads. they do not remember class

your residence hall is having an event later. you tell yourself you’re going to go. you forget and curl up in your bed instead. darkness surrounds you and tucks you in. you don’t want to leave your bed. your bed is safe (you still don’t know from what) the next morning you wake up and see that your residence hall is having an event later. you tell yourself you’re going to go.

“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 (via vilicity)

Books don’t offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.

David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas (via wordsnquotes)

overanalyze and chill