Reblog This If You're The Eldest Daughter Who Had To Mature At A Really Young Age, Were Always Seen As

Proclus once said:

"This therefore, is mathematics: she reminds you of the invisible forms of the soul; she gives life to her own discoveries; she awakens the mind and purifies the intellect; she brings to light our intrinsic ideas; she abolishes oblivion and ignorance which are ours by birth ..."

Man I love maths

and I know I hurt you. I know it must have hurt a lot. but I need you to see that you hurt me too.

no, I don't want an apology. all I want is that you look at me and see that you have hurt me too. that it hurt a lot, too.

Indian Dark Academia - Delhi (mystery academia)

You spend most of your summer afternoons roaming around the monuments, marveling over the minds of people long gone. you find an old vendor outside Qutub Minar, seated with large stacks of books in front of her. Secrets Of Delhi, the cover of the one hidden beneath the rest says. The vendor mumbles its price and you ignore the chill you feel crawling down your spine when you catch her smiling at you.

The dim light of your candle flickers as you flip through the pages of the book the vendor sold to you. The moon hangs low in the sky, as if intent to see what mysteries you'll unveil. What the Sultans tried to hide, stories buried by time, dangerous lores that might be true; you feel the words sear into your eyes. You brush them off as fictional gibberish as you get ready for bed but you couldn't shake off the feeling that you're being watched. The shadows in the corner of your room shift as if in confirmation.

You vaguely remember your history professor mentioning a mad astrologer who claimed there was a "disastrous" planetary alignment during 1757. Exactly a century before the First War of Independence. You cannot help but think of him now as you run your hand over the walls of Jantar Mantar.

You're strolling through the Red Fort and you find undecipherable inscriptions on a pillar of the Diwan-i-khas. You let your fingers trace the letters as you realize that something strange happened here.

The voices of a hundred sufi saints ring in your ears and your dreams are haunted with memories that aren't yours. You catch glimpses of harems and princesses dancing. A sword dripping with blood and a body buried in the hush of the night. Ruins of deserted mughal palaces where you could still hear the voice of a wailing woman. Delhi's beautiful but she's got her secrets.

—the male gaze

the robber bride by margaret atwood // the virgin suicides (1999) // at test of objectification theory: the effect of the male gaze on appearance concerns in college women by rachel m. calogero // ex machina (2015) // a woman’s beauty by susan sontag // lolita (1997) // shame is an ocean, swim across by mary lambert // fleabag // fleabag: the scriptures by phoebe waller-bridge

Being the “eldest daughter” is nauseating and I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone

Are you straight?

don’t insult me

love letter to fanny brawne, john keats

Wish I was wandering the snow dusted grounds of a crumbling manor right now, wrapped in a velvet cloak

Dark academia is 90% introverts who resort to murder when exposed to society.

bein able to reblog posts of deleted tumblr accounts is absolutely the best feature here

its feels like dragging a corpse around through a bacchanal along with its legacy