The Thought Was This: That All My Life Had Been Murk And Depths, But I Was Not A Part Of That Dark Water.

02.03.23

So, today, I got done with a lecture that I've been putting off since December. Feel much more productive. I have a long day tomorrow. I have 2 more lectures to go through and a 5 chap test of physics tomorrow.

Autumn is the season of cozy books, comfort sweaters, chai, earl grey, croissants and candles.

Memories are a curse; I want to remember you no more.

🌻 study update 🌻

Pictures from yesterday

🌱okie so today, I felt like shit, I had about one hour of sleep :( however, I didn't listen to that tiredness and did some physics hehe. I'm really proud of myself.

If I won't get to go on a bookstore + tea date with my homies this autumn, what even is the point.

I want to forget.

But books, like people, die. They die in fires or floods or in the mouths of worms or at the whims of tyrants. If they are not safeguarded, they go out of the world. And when a book goes out of the world, the memory dies a second death.

- cloud cuckoo land

Everyone wants the stars. Everyone wishes to grasp that which exists out of reach. To hold the extraordinary in their hands and keep the remarkable in their pockets.

- Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea.

“I want you to tell me about every person you've ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn't think you'd live through. Tell me what the word "home" means to you and tell me in a way that I'll know your mother's name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8.

See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree?

And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they're sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother's joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you've been unkind. Tell me all the ways you've been cruel. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving.

And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people's wounds.”

— Andrea Gibson

Do you not feel the birth of a star at the touch of our fingertips.

Your lips caress my skin, turning the blood coursing through my veins into stardust; stardust that cannot be tamed, for all it knows is chaos.

My love, I ache for you to tame the stardust in me.

Make me yours.