The Feminine Urge To Just Want To Run Away To The Scottish Highlands And Listen To Hozier All Day And

>>>>>>💘

the combination of the smell of books and the sound of rain…absolute perfection.

Poetries are the love letters that their rightful owners will never be able to read.

-nipuna

When sorrow's shadow falls on love's remains,

Days pass with memories that bring only pain.

Tears fall like rain, a heart that's lost its way,

And unkind words cloud the light of each new day.

In dreams, I find solace, a fleeting peace,

A respite from the ache that love's loss can't release.

The days go by, a blur of endless strife,

A struggle to move on, to find a new life.

The love we had is gone, lost to the past,

A memory that haunts, a love that won't last.

Yet still I hold on to what we had found,

A bittersweet reminder of love's fragile ground.

The light in my eyes, once bright and bold,

Now fades away, a love that's grown cold.

- written by me

she’s a 10 but she rots in her room all day listening to music and making up scenarios in her head

sorry i cant hang out i forgot how to mimic human like behaviour

My soul hurts so fucking bad, I feel like I'm being tormented everyday that I am alive. I do not want to keep going I do not want to see if tomorrow is better I'm ready to give up and im sick of Pretending that I'm happy living this so fucking called life.

Dream Jobs :

— forest witch

— rich vampire's wife

— haunted bookstore owner

the secret history is so wild. like there's a hundred different analysis essays you could write about it and it's meaning and whatnot. but there's also a genius who thinks of elaborate ways to kill someone but didn't know or believe that the moon landing happened. they pull off the murder of their classmate and don't get caught. they try to hit a wasp with a prayer book during said classmate's funeral service. the unreliable narrator does cocaine in a burger king parking lot. said unreliable narrator lives in a hippie's house that has a hole in the roof in a vermont winter and doesn't realize it's literally killing him. the absolute hilarious unhinged energy from this book is overshadowed by a writing style where the most batshit things seem almost mundane. i love it.

“The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation.” ― Donna Tartt, The Secret History