Midnights Was A Perfect Album For All Our Thoughts That We Have At Midnight, Which Aren't Very Perfect,

Things I wanna research more:

When movie musicals became second best to theatre musicals

Time theories

Quantum theories

Astronomy

The seven other units at uni that I can’t do for this degree

Did I say time theories

Quantum physics

Physics in general

Psychology things (mental health, trauma, etc)

avril lavigne photographed by danielle levitt, 2002 🤘🏼🖤

being an only child and not close with your parents is hard when you love talking and can’t keep your mouth shut and are constantly making jokes. like i’ve always just kinda talked to myself since i had no one to talk to and now being think i’m weird. i cant be the only one who will have full on conversations out loud with only myself, right?

I travel to different worlds through my head, you can call me crazy if you want, but I've seen things and I've lived lives and they were all extraordinary.

words i wish were written for me

Including book quotes, poetry, song lyrics and everything in between, these are some of the words that make my soul wish someone cared about me so much they would write this. 

“Because you are the only person I can talk with about the shade of a cloud, about the song of a thought — and about how, when I went out to work today and looked a tall sunflower in the face, it smiled at me with all of its seeds.”

– Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

“My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain, which hasn’t stopped thinking about you since, well, before any kiss. And now the prospect of those kisses seems to wind me like when you slip on the stairs and one of the steps hits you in the middle of the back. The notion of them continuing for what is traditionally terrifying forever excites me to an unfamiliar degree.” 

– Alex Turner’s Letter to Alexa Chung

“And I’d give up forever to touch you / ‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow / You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be / And I don’t want to go home right now.” 

– From the song “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls

“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.” 

– Sally Rooney, Normal People

“It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants.”

– Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

– Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

– Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

eu não posso ser sua amiga, porque a intensidsde dos meus sentimentos me machucam. Você não é amigo. Você é amor.

i’m a simple creature, i see an old, abandoned place and i want to live there because i care about what ghosts think of me.

The reason I like staying up so late is because between the hours of 12am - 4am, the world is quiet and no one expects anything from me. I can read or write for hours, draw crazy things, write poetry on my wrist. And there are no consequences. I can look at stars and moon for a long time, it’s so calm and relaxing.

i don't think there's anything more human than annotating a book. you have a physical copy of thousands upon thousands of words- words that are meaningless, unless put together in the perfect way- and within those meaningless words, you find the meaning. you find what you're meant to find, and you make note of it. you make note of it so, when you come back, you're filled with that emotion. that lovely feeling, that heartbreak, that pain and sadness and anger and laughter and suddenly it isn't just a physical copy of thousands upon thousands of words. it's more like home.

and don't get me started on how it feels to see other people's annotations. seeing the thoughts and feelings of other people, splayed right there on the page; it's a window, isn't it? it's a way to see what they're processing. what sticks out to them, what makes them feel, what makes them tick. is there anything more human than that, seeing a person's heart and soul with your own eyes, among a physical copy of thousands upon thousands of words? they take in these words and, in return, give the physical copy something of themselves. and i think that's absolutely breathtaking.

I’m having a hard time accepting death as I remain alive. I watch my loved ones go but where does my love for them go? I feel it leaving me trying to nest in undeserving places. These other people don’t know what to do with it. I feel it trying to return back to me but I cannot keep it, it does not belong to me. It belongs with them, the ones who are already gone. So I let it get swallowed up by the earth, bits of me I will never get back. I am only a fraction, I carry a hidden life by the side of my life.

Dara Karadag