I write to figure out what I think.
Who I am.
Words make thoughts stand still.
Face scrutiny.
Formless fears don’t answer to us.
Writing does.
the most romantic of pins
he lets me hit bc i say shit like ‘alas’
Want some bestiary?
(Yeah, it's been a long time, I know, I know...)
laptop: PLEASE place me on a hard surface that does not obstruct my cooling fan I am begging you
me: shut up we are going to snuggle in bed :)
Guide to Figuring out the Age of an Undated World Map.
ripping grass out of the ground is therapy
hi i am completely mentally stable and normal about certain media
Me: *Removes my cat from my lap to do something else.*
My cat: Father is...evil? Father is unyielding? Father is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household.
It's worth remembering that if ghosts are real, then you already are one.
In 1,000 years you'll be dancing in churchyard rain on some shaggy hillside and you'll think of the body you once had as a strange, short phase.
Like a bad haircut.
“You are a violent and irrepressible miracle. The vacuum of cosmos and the stars burning in it are afraid of you. Given enough time you would wipe us all out and replace us with nothing -- just by accident.”
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