Not Knowing Names Of Songs I Liked In A Public Place Will Forever Come To Haunt Me In My Dreams.

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗎 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 ♡

𝗏𝗂𝖺: 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅_𝗓𝗈𝗈

Moonlight

Look at your wrist, see the blueish veins? The blood flowing through them contains hemoglobin, a protein that has four iron atoms incorporated into its structure. Iron is only naturally produced in one place, it can only be forged in the core of dying stars.

Every time you look at your veins, remember that you are built from, and kept alive by, pieces of stardust.

“Your mind is a garden, plant flowers, not weeds. / Your thoughts are like water, as clear or murky as you allow them to be”

— (note to self)

Everything in the rain becomes so much better? Like yes please I want you to take me on a date with the rain. Where there is only one umbrella but ample conversations and it's only there for the sake of holding hands, warm bodies pressed up together; soft breath fanning on my skin. The heady scent of the damp earth enveloping us. The sound of your laughter and the way you throw your head back, your eyes crinkling along with the pitter-patter of the rain and I swear I will fall in love with you if you ask me for a dance near a lone street in the middle of the night and if you press your soft lips to mine, in the cold wet rain. I honestly don't know what I would do.

“Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of a natural death.”

— Anais Nin

What kind of a life would you want if you had the freedom and resources to choose?

Personally a little overstuffed cottage by the fields, a little family, a small library and a florist stall at the front would suffice.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours

A little thought I picked up from a conversation with a friend.

Do demons really deserve our hate? Every-time, I talk about things that make my soul bleed, I label them as demons. But aren’t those very demons the most beautiful creation in my head?

They are unapologetic, the most vulnerable part of my personality, the part that I want to conceal because the people around me are not ready to deal with the rawness of it all. So why label them and weigh them down with so much hatred, they do trouble you, but only because you don’t let them speak to you.

A little kid constantly crying, constantly interrupting your conversations, clinging on to your arm, just so you look at them for a second, crouch down to their eye level and offer a them consoling smile.

oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? it’s okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacher’s back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didn’t. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i don’t want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too. 

one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.