Call Me By Your Name (2017) Dir. Luca Guadagnino

I can't let go of people, I can't move on. I attach myself so strongly to the people who come into my life that the thought of them leaving horrifies me. I plant roots so profoundly that every time someone pulls out theirs', it creates a deep chasm in my heart, leaving it hollow inside. I wish they could stay with me forever but they leave, abandoning me with a deserted heart.

Some illustrations from Astronomy, Explained Upon Sir Isaac Newton's Principles and Made Easy to Those Who Have Not Studied Mathematics by James Ferguson (1799).

last night as i was falling asleep i was thinking about the beauty of loving someone in any form and just wanting things with them without any ulterior motives or any other goal. like wanting to be around someone because you love them and want them in your life, not because they can do something for you, wanting to make someone food or make things for them in general not because you expect something in return but because you want them to eat well and to be happy. wanting to hold someone just because you want them close and want to make them feel safe and warm. wanting to wash someones hair because you love them and want to take care of them. anyway i think its really sweet and beautiful how a lot of times when we love someone we do things like this

in my sylvia plath, tortured poet, the lakes, jo march, dead poets society, albert camus, folklore, evermore, metamorphosis, dostovesky era

i'm so obsessed with the idea of living in a big city where i can choose to be invisible and disappear between the crowds and live for myself and have my favorite little corner in a cafe and go to musea and galleries and appreciate art and architecture for hours uninterrupted and go to all the places where literary figures got inspiration for their poetry and their works and stroll down the streets by myself and look at people who pass by and invent little stories for them in my head and live in a small apartment where i can write by my open window until really late at night and sometimes stop and listen to the bustle of life on the streets below and i can also choose to be part of that bustle myself and part of a circle of artists who share a studio and support each other and go to social gatherings where i meet people who are as passionate about art and poetry as i am and exchange ideas and be inspired and have specific corners and monuments and cafes where we gather, and hold symposia stuffed in someone's tiny apartment and in general live as an active part of the urban creative scene ??? just ,,, living in a city where i get to see the entire assembled past and present existence of humanity ???

“Quando me perguntarem do que eu mais gostei, vou dizer que foi de você.”

— Cidade dos Anjos.

eu temh

I can’t help but wonder if those possessed in Fear Street were kind of like passengers during their individual sprees. Like they had to watch it all happen and feel everything that was happening to their body but couldn’t actually do anything to stop it. Nobody was strong enough to over come it until Sam briefly managed to near the end of 1666. Like I just keep thinking of Tommy being trapped in his own mind as he massacred his friends and the kids that he was supposed to be looking after.

sorry to disappoint you, but i’d rather stare out of the window, listen to music and create fake scenarios in my head than do those worthless mortal tasks

i just want to be one of those cute, aesthetically pleasing readers who’ve got their cardigans on and sip on their tea while reading by the fireplace but i always end up looking like a hot mess with my big stained hoodie, tied-up hair and dried up tears, trying to find good lighting at 3am so i can make out what i’m reading