Do Y'all Believe In Soulmates? Do Y'all Believe That There Is One Perfect Person For Everyone?

i can be trusted on a nature walk i promise. i promise i will stay on the trail and will not run off into the forest never to be seen again i promise

my favourite lines from The Bees in The Starless Sea

You are most powerful when you are most silent. People never expect silence. They expect words, motion, defense, offense, back and forth. They expect to leap into the fray. They are ready, fists up, words hanging leaping from their mouths. Silence? No.

- Alison McGhee

The true blasphemy of literature is the romanticization of romance. They make it beautiful—all soft words, and elegant lines—and enchanting, with magic sparkling in the margins.

And you can feel it in the depths of your soul, an unexplored ocean of laughter and tears and dreams all melded together.

The yearning of a kiss that brushes against the steady and so so warm pulsing beat of life—against the smooth skin of a lovers neck. The desperation to touch another being and feel that they’re alive, right there next to you—right there, and never leaving.

To love and be loved is a jewel among treasures and all that we each seek—all that we each desire.

It burns and it burns and it burns.

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

“Come home and break my heart, if you must.”

“Occasionally, Fate pulls itself together again and Time is always waiting.”

“And perhaps it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”

“By you, I am forever undone.”

“One word from you shall silence me forever.”

“A heart’s a heavy burden.”

“My sweet nemesis.”

“If you have to go, you know I will go with you.”

and then?

and then.

The book is over.

And you remember that love like that doesn't exist.

Not in the real world.

And all you can do is cry.

I really like how the Secret History lets you question your own morality, like you’re more upset of a person being a jerk rather than being an actual murderer.

There is a stag in the snow. Blink and he will vanish. Was he a stag at all or was he something else? Was he a sentiment hanging unspoken or a path not taken or a closed door left unopened? Or was he a deer, glimpsed amongst the trees and then gone, disturbing not a single branch in his departure? The stag is a shot left untaken. An opportunity lost. Stolen like a kiss. In these new forgetful times with their changed ways sometimes the stag will pause a moment longer. He waits though once he never waited, would never dream to wait or wait to dream. He waits now. For someone to take the shot. For someone to pierce his heart. To know he is remembered.

- The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

Dont forget to always forgive yourself at the end of the day. No matter how many mistakes you made, no matter how strict you were to yourself, no matter how angry you were at yourself or upset you were with yourself, at the end of the day, never forget to make peace with yourself. You can do something wrong, hold yourself acountable, and still be gentle with yourself.

I may look fine but deep down I wanna do this.

my brain has too many tabs open

Sometimes I think about how different some books would be if they had been written by other authors.

For instance, if sylvia plath had written tsh it would've been in camilla's pov and everything would have been so much more unhinged. We'd get more of bunny's daddy issues and francis would've tried committing suicide back when henry told him he liked gucci.