Look All I'm Asking For Is Forehead Kisses And Academic Validation And Autumn And Museum Dates And Cold

convinced that 96% of my problems would be solved if i had a private library

for the second time my hopes of having a tasteful, respectable spotify wrapped this year have been dashed by josh groban playing the titular character of a historical musical based on a piece of old literature in which he is a sad lonely guy in a toxic relationship and at odds with society (and there's a failed elopement)

girls don't want teddies or chocolates girls want you to pick them up after they cut their foot on glass whilst wading in the lake at their friend's family's mansion in the woods and when they insist that they're too heavy they want you to smile, showing a slight chip in one of your front teeth, and insist, "you're as light as a feather."

girls want henry winter.

i am girls.

lost is a lovely place to find yourself

- micheal faudet

i miss autumn. i miss short days and long nights. i miss the stars. i miss chunky scarves and knitted beanies and thick sweaters. i miss withered orange leaves underfoot. i miss lukewarm rain. i miss cold winds that smell of nature and death. i miss spending grey days reading classics by candle light. i miss herbal teas and bitter coffee. i miss the sting of ice in my fingers. i miss the harsh softness as the world slowly settles down and gets ready to die.

i find it so charming that so many ancient civilisations - if not most of them - believed in gods of some sort. like, the world was so inexplicably incredible that, to them, it could be the work of nothing but the divine.

"why bother drinking decaf coffee if it defeats the point of drinking coffee-" Do you possess no capacity for whimsy? Do you never rest? Must everything you consume work towards fulfilling a need, serving a higher purpose? Must your pursuit of happiness be marred by the constant desire for practicality, and progress, and utility? Can you not just like the taste of coffee

inside you are two wolves. one is diet coke heart-shaped sunglasses vintage diners red nail polish lollipops soft ice-cream knee-high socks lipstick stains girl blogger. the other is black coffee rainy weather turtlenecks secret history notes app poetry hand-held vhs camera autumn cable-knit sweaters tote bag thrift stores chunky rings.

sex isn't sexy unless it's a little bit gross. have you forgotten that you are a divine ape? plastic smooth skin, plucked hair, painted faces, scripted reactions, scrubbed til only the smell of perfumed soap remains, proportions that are conflictingly cookiecutter yet unattainable, none of this is even a little bit interesting.

you can laugh at napoleon's "home in three days, don't bathe" letter to his wife, but there's more sexuality in that one line then there is in the entirety of the hypersexualized but painfully unsexy internet.