The Craziest Thing About Books Is You Can Pick One Up And Remember Exactly Where You Read And What You

“my mind turns your life into folklore” is such a confession. it’s taylor admitting that folklore and evermore, while cloaked in fictional narratives and obscured by the trees, is based in reality. it’s her taking her life and exploring what ifs. putting her life into a context that we the audience can relate to. not everyone can relate to the life of a millionaire whos been famous half her life, but we all know about having a crush on someone at school. taylor is a brilliant storyteller, and an absolute master at making deeply personal situations relatable.

I want to be human

I want to be unashamedly myself. I want to be messy. With large sweaters and a mug of tea. Headphones playing a true crime podcast. Pen ink staining my finger tips and journal in hand. Moth-man stickers on my water bottle. With grass stains on my pants and flowers in my hair.

Does anyone else while you're reading get through a really good/dramatic scene, and then you put your book down and like, act out the scene that just happened in your mirror and then sometimes you add on to it and create like this whole other plot then when you're done you pick your book back up and continue reading like nothing happened...? Just me? Okay.

i keep thinking about digital ghosts. or maybe digital hauntings would be a better term. the final messages shared between you and someone you no longer speak to, for whatever reason. a webpage, or blog post, or inactive profile on a social media forum that you still return to sometimes, no longer even hoping for something to have changed, just to remember, like returning to a grave year after year. video and audio recordings of people who've left your life that you play back over and over until the tape wears out. in the realm of the more fantastical, maybe a hologram that bears their likeness but only a pale, shallow imitation of their complexity, their personality, or an AI or other imperfect replica built on a lifetime of data collected from them that only reinforces their absence but is all you have left to remember (or replace until you forget the difference) them by. all these records that they existed that will inevitably only last as long as the technology that supports them takes to become obsolete, or the data corrupts and begins to break down, or the archives storing it are no longer hosted anywhere. you haven't cheated death, or the grief that comes with losing someone. you've just prolonged it.

i’ll attempt to go to the city on my own and order a couple books on cosmology tomorrow. i’m really into that stuff. the theories of general relativity and quantum mechanics and the search of a combination of those are so interesting! also I just read how Dr. Norma Sanchez has published a theory on that in january. i really have to do some further reading on her theory!

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Credits twitter: @ellasxl

" the love of your life isn't, always, the one you marry "

okay but if we, as a society, normalised writing poetry on the walls, wandering through old forests, having massive secret home libraries filled with books we've collected over the years, wearing medieval dresses and lying on the cool grass in a countryside on summer evenings.. daydreaming instead of worrying about chores and silly responsibilities; the world would've been a better place.

The worst about it is that I’m proud

Twilight 🖤

What perfume would fit this aesthetic?