when will we as a society branch out from white sheets for ghosts. where’s the self-expression, where is the drama. when will i get the couture bedsheet looks i deserve
cicero's letter where he complains about "penis" being turned into a dirty word truly is the gift that keeps on giving
were you a "mud potion, picking up worms with your bare hands and trying to climb every tree you see" weird kid, a "sadistically playing god with your barbie dolls/action figures/plushes" weird kid, or a "devouring entire novels in a single afternoon and then writing wish fulfilment self insert fanfiction for them before you even knew what fanfiction was" weird kid?
Thinking about her.
The university library that has once offered me refuge and motivation, now closed and empty.
waiter: do u want soup or salad ? me: whichever is easier for u
“You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again.”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov