On Tragedy, Fate, And Inevitability.

you're allowed to be held.

in my slut era. (i can't even start a conversation)

i love tragedy.

i love when a story is sworn to end horribly, no happy endings. it’s fated to fail, and everyone within it will either be dead or go mad or lose everything they love and then some. if only orpheus hadn’t turned back. if only achilles would have listened to patroclus. if only romeo had received the second letter. if only they weren’t all doomed right from the start.

but they’d do it anyway, every single time. to continue to go on knowing something will end in pain is the epitome of love.

if we didn’t love so much, there would be no tragedy. if we don’t accept tragedy, there would be no love at all.

"How do you write such realistic dialogue-" I TALK TO MYSELF. I TALK TO MYSELF AND I PRETEND I AM THE ONE SAYING THE LINE. LIKE SANITY IS SLOWLY SLIPPING FROM BETWEEN MY FINGERS WITH EVERY MEASLY WORD THEY TYPE OUT. THAT IS HOW.

I abuse hyphens so much, it’s just too much fun (I must have extended imagery or I die)

one of my worst writing sins is abusing my power to create compound words. i cannot write the sentence "The sun shone as bright as honey that afternoon." no. that's boring. "The sun was honey-bright that afternoon" however? yes. that sentence is dope as fuck. i do not care if "honey-bright" is a word in the english dictionary. i do not care if the sentence is grammatically correct. i will not change. i will not correct my erred ways. the laws of the english language are mine.

haha that's a nice starry-eyed ambition you've got there buddy. sure hope the narrative doesn't warp it into something ruthless and all-consuming

start here, caitlyn siehl // untitled, fortesa latifi // rien ne va plus, margarita karapanau (trans. karen emmerich) // black iris, leah raeder // the thorn merchant, yusuf komunyakaa // monster movie, nicola maye goldberg // a key to common lethal fungi, marge piercy // give me a god i can relate to, blythe baird // crimson peak, dir. guillermo del torro (2014) // the house of hades, rick riordan.

scott street - phoebe bridgers

Do not tell me that girls cannot change the world. I grew on stories of a twelve year old Anne Frank in a cramped, silent room weaving hopeful magic with just a pen. And Ruby Bridges facing racist monsters when she was only six, to become the first African American child to desegregate an all white school. And Anandi Gopal Joshi, only 19 years old and the first woman doctor of India. And Mary Shelley changing the face of fiction forever by inventing a whole new genre at 18. I grew up on tales of girls fighting destiny, carving history with their own two hands, breaking down walls. So if my daughter ever doubts herself because she is told she cannot, I will hand her stories as a sword and faith as a shield and tell her, “You know what? They told Anne and Ruby and Anandi and Mary they couldn’t, too. And it didn’t stop them. Because nothing can stop a girl with eyes aflame with courage and a war song in her chest.”

Nikita Gill, Stories of Girls Who Changed The World