“Ainda Assim, A Imagem Assombrou Seus Sonhos A Noite Toda: A Linda Garota Que Olhava As Estrelas E

In the depth of those words, i intend to write a letter to myself but it came out as a death note instead, i was in awe-destruction. These words carry heavy bricks and burning rage, where should i put it down? I wanted to write about what a fine and a good day looks like but then i remember Van Gogh's saying, 'this sadness will last forever' and so i hold the pen and start pouring blood, spilled on the pages of my dear diary. These kind of stuff happens when you cant pull the trigger. Millions of thoughts written yet none could be able to elucidate the unsaid., it always went down the grave coverted in the dead bones.

- Marium.

i am so much older than i thought i was. it's as if one day i decided to run too far from the sidewalk where my chalk drawings are and forgot to come back. now i wander around foreign cities because maps do not guide me home anymore. i dine in timeworn cafés and write poems on discarded grocery store receipts hoping to brush my fingertips over those stolen years, but it only drifts further away each day. tender is the spine that bears one's childhood ghosts and this misplaced sorrow thrashes beneath the very skin i can never step out of.

Obsessed with the idea of sacrifice in a book being a selfish act rather than a selfless one. Their lover screaming at them: “How dare you leave me in this barren world? How dare you take away my choice to die for you and leave me with this grief?”. They are dead, and their lover is left - a gaping wound - bleeding into the ground. Do they love them so much that they would die for them, or do they love them so much that they forced the other to live without them? Sacrifice as a bitter act. Sacrifice as something wildly violent; something tormentingly cruel — but always, always built on love. Perhaps, they are both martyrs in the end.

Sometimes i just wanna go into woods, live in a small shack, learn french, and fall in love with a family that are my only source of entertainment while sneeking out a night to help them collect firewood.

Arp 273 is a pair of interacting galaxies, lying 300 million light years away in the constellation Andromeda. The larger of the spiral galaxies, known as UGC1810, is about five times more massive than the smaller galaxy.

Image credit: NASA/ESA & Hubble

Blackstairs

saw this trend on twitter and I HAD to join ✨

💚👑LYSANDRA👑💚

If you repost it on Instagram, please give full credit to @_manon_blackbeak(me), thank you🖤

to whoever i end up with:

i want to share a shower with you. i want to share soaps with you. i want to be constantly running out of soaps because we use each other's soaps. i want to smell my soaps on you.

i want to sit on the train with you late at night leaning on each other and listening to music. i want to be drinking coffee and stroking your hair.

i want to hit you whenever you crack a stupid joke.

i want to make movies about you.

i want to write journals about you.

i want you to wake up while i'm still sleeping and read until i wake up to see how many chapters you can read before i wake up. probably a lot. i wake up really late.

i want to write things for you. good things. not things like this. i want to write things that make you understand how much i adore you but i'm bad with words but i promise i'm trying. i'm really trying.

Do you guys cleanse your face once or twice a day?

I read books when I needed a break from reality and I’m not sure when these breaks slowly become the beginning of my obsession with the concept of escapism. The mere fact that I’d rather live a thousand different lives and meet a thousand different people and live through a thousand different scenarios- to feel the pain and grief and anger and love of fictional characters simply because I can’t handle the idea that I too ,am supposed to face these feelings in the mundane world I live in . It’s suffocating. It’s something I can’t comprehend. I’m never fully present- half my mind and all my heart lay grotesquely in between the pages of my books

Personally I do it once

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 .