Not To Be Over Dramatic Or Anything But The Decline In Popularity Of Hand Written Letters Is One Of The

ⓘ This user is dangerously close to dropping everything at hand and running into the woods.

ultraviolence era !!!

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I told my brother I couldn’t sleep and he told me to watch something boring so, did you guys knew stars have different light colors? Actually red light stars are that color because since they are in the cool and bloated stage of their evolution they are more dense, therefore can dominate the infrared light. Still awake though.

“I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.”

-Haruki Murakami

i'm sitting on my bed reading. it’s almost midnight. it’s summer. my window is open and the cool wind is blowing. it's cloudy but i can see the moon shining through the clouds. the crickets are very loud but very soothing. my room smells dusty and warm and no one else exists. the feeling never goes away. everything is quiet and i'm at peace.

trees are very 🥺 because sometimes i’ll stand under the shade of a tree and look up at it and it’ll sway its branches about in the wind and i’m like oh my God i’m alive and YOU’RE alive. we are alive together and made up of the same starry stuff and standing right next to each other in this moment on this earth. do u feel it when i reach out and press my hand to your trunk? can you hear me? i think you’re so neat. and then the sunlight filters through its leaves just so and that lovely green color leaves me dazzled. it’s just very nice to be an alive thing next to a different sort of alive thing

life is so fun when you spend most of your days ignoring responsibilities, reading books, listening to music and dissociating from reality

Quarantined dark academia :

Looking out to the porch waiting for your order of books to arrive, reading till 4AM, lazy sips of red wine, black coffee in the late afternoon, burning candles on all day, mozart playing quietly while you sketch in your well-loved notebook, your favourite novels falling apart as you read them for the hundredth time, dressing in scarves and tweed jackets for your daily walks, missing museums and galleries and libraries .

I can't let go of people, I can't move on. I attach myself so strongly to the people who come into my life that the thought of them leaving horrifies me. I plant roots so profoundly that every time someone pulls out theirs', it creates a deep chasm in my heart, leaving it hollow inside. I wish they could stay with me forever but they leave, abandoning me with a deserted heart.