My toxic trait is that I made Daphne du Maurier my personality in school instead of Jane Austen
Your favourite colour’s green. Real or not real?
there is a love in which i will always know you, just incase you forget.
love elizabeth s.
Look like the innocent flower,
but be the serpent under it
i’m tired. but not just “didn’t sleep” tired. soul tired. bone tired. like my body keeps going but nothing inside knows why.
I’ll tell you something right now,
I’m terrified of burning my whole life down.
There is something to be said about the way in which a memory fades - like ink in water, rippling until it is no longer there.
It fades with the finality of a written ending, in way it leaves no room for further discussion; it simply vanishes.
And like ink in water, it is hard to catch before it leaves completely. It simply stains other memories, giving a gray veil
that wasn't there before. But its echo - that noise it made while it lived, forever remains in your brain.
~ Ely C. Winters.
— Virginia Woolf
𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜, 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚜
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