I Absolutely Adore This!!!!

A couple confessions from your favorite romantic Chemistry academic….

Is there anything more Dark Academia than Nietzche and Schnabel commenting on Mozart’s music?

Also, is there such a thing as thrift shopping in your father’s closet? If not, I just made it a thing.

I was heading home from University on a rather grey day and whilst walking, a vintage looking barber shop caught my eye. The door was open and on the bottom right corner was a small picture of Ernest Hemingway…my favorite writer. Though it may be nothing really special to anyone else, I thought it was quite brilliant.

Ahahah….same

I’ve been collecting the quotes from celestial tea

Ah I love this

Hamlet’s Vision by Pedro Américo (1893)

OMG! This is everything.

cute date idea: we go to a locally owned bookstore and cafe to buy greek history books and shakespeare. seeing your brown eyes in the sun makes me believe in miracles and hearing your voice recite soliloquies makes me believe in aphrodite

Melancholic Medical Student by the Sea

Salty air, grey fog, chilly breeze, cricket chirps, full moon, partially cloudy sky, slippery rocks, cold sand, paper cut, oversized faded blue plaid shirt, chemistry books on the floor, cold abandoned coffee, black cat sleeping an emerald green flannel, heavy rain tapping on the window, cold ears, neatly folded navy scrubs, warm candlelight, unfinished lab report, iodine, verses from Hamlet running through my mind as I drift into daydreams…unable to concentrate, it is cold and I keep reading the same page about aortic aneurysms, dried out perrywinkles, half eaten toast, Franz Schubert’s Schwanengesang, D. 957: IV. Ständchen playing on the record player at a low volume, skull on desk, seagulls dropping blue mussels on the empty beach parking lot, unopened letters, heavy eyelids, barnacle shells, bleak oblivion, creaking floorboards, anatomical sketches collecting dust, distant breaking waves, unreciprocated love, tight chest, fidgeting, messy illegible notes, smell of old books, staring into nothingness….

“To die, to sleep- to sleep, perchance to dream/ Ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come” (Hamlet, 3.1)

Anyone else live their life through photographs? I certainly do.

home by the sea.. .

tchaikowsky donating his skull to the royal shakespeare company in the hopes of becoming yorick is the most dramatic ass dark academia shit ever and you can’t convince me otherwise 

me: i'm not that dramatic

also me: *plays lacrimosa by mozart while crying at three in the morning*

Writers gather around

“Writers aren’t exactly people...they are a bunch of people trying to be one person” -F. Scott Fitzgerald 

...I am writers. Thank you Scott, for giving an explanation for my dilemma.