Currently...

I read. Obsessively. Because, when I read, there is purpose to my loneliness.

i have a whole day planned out for myself. art museum. second hand bookstore. barnes and nobles. poke.

i’m about to go feral on the streets i’m so excited

all im asking for is a good life. im a simple girl with simple needs. i just want to live in a small cottage or a mansion full of art, it doesn’t matter which. i just want to be surrounded by art. art like the warm scents of wild flowers, the smell of soil, the varying colors of the earth which its flowers bear, and art like the wide fields where i want to run through with my lover hand in hand, like there’s no tomorrow. again, im a simple girl with simple needs, with a need for art.

gonna start decomposing soon for so many reasons

reblog to decompose

you know you want to

someone tell the grandma to put the sword down

This world will never be enough for me. I'll never get to lead an army into battle and drink to our victory. I'm never gonna be the first wanderer to map the skies and lands of an unknown world. But, gods, will I try to. My mind is one of an explorer, a wild soul that cannot be tamed, but can be lost in books, music and poetry. A spirit that is kept alive thanks to the beauty of nature, whose eyes are filled with stars. Such a soul knows no death. I have roamed the Earth since the begging of time, searching for that spark of excitement that will ignite a fire. I have had millenia to adore what I am and what I've conquered and learned, but it will never be enough. I don't want it to be enough. An explorer with no places to go, or no hope to drive them, is dead. Thus, I have given myself to immortality.

I like how the only times I go on tumblr is to recover from books that mentally destroyed me

Sometimes I read so I don’t have to be stuck inside my mind with my thoughts, sometimes I read when I feel burnt out and feel like giving up and letting go of everything, sometimes I read when I feel like the world is against me and there’s no one I can rely on so I escape to a different world instead. But mostly I read because of the stories I can relate to, to the happiness, sadness, and struggles of people who exist only on paper and in my imagination.

absolutely love using the term partner

business partner?

lover?

partner in crime?

good cop bad cop?

all the above

Bruh there's something comforting in knowing that no matter what I do or where I am, some part of me is always back here or back there with those characters and those stories that changed me, sometimes in small ways, sometimes in fundamental ways. And I know it's not real, but it's nice to imagine, to feel, that no matter what's going on with me, somewhere out there teenage boys in armor are chasing things that go bump in the night and two kids are experiencing a love story on the streets of New York and princesses and kings are sleeping underground while a group of friends are becoming family, orange cars are driving the streets, Spiderman is off to school, horses are being raised and raced by another love story on a faraway Celtic isle, and adventures are happening even if I'm not there to see them. But man is my heart out there with them