Themoontide - Katarina

Alejandra Pizarnik, from Diarios.

Christophe Jacrot

I arrive home i get in my corner

Fontainebleau State Park, Mandeville, Louisiana by Lana Gramlich

i think what fucked me up most about the midnight club is how desperate everyone was to believe in something, in anything. and in their desperation, all they found was each other. the stories mike flanagan create are actually heart-wrenching but this was on another level. the fact that he’s shown in every show that ghosts are not simply ghosts, they are wishes, and faith, and love, and sadness, and desperation. how when no one can bring themselves to believe in the truth they take to tales, and stories, to help themselves feel better. how every ghost story in the show was just themselves coping with their diseases and their pain. how fantastical is it that they held onto something so tightly, but it slipped through. like the sunlight in the trees or the wind through the grass. how no one blamed ilonka for believing in something so.. strange to make her friend better.

at the end of the day all they wanted was each other to do better. to live. how terrifying is it to know that you cannot live for much longer? to accept it? to let go of the ghosts and to simply stay present? how do you love and how do you lose? how do you accept loss? how do you grieve? how do you hold someone’s hand and not let go even when they do? how do you let someone go when they’re ready to but you’re not?

anyways this was my little tangent thing i’m still sobbing over the show. no one hmu will be rotting in my room for the next month

I love you thunderstorm lullabies. I love you foggy mornings. I love you misty days. I love you birds playing in puddles. I love you raindrop-bejeweled blades of grass. I love you cool breeze.

my skills include daydreaming about living near the ocean