I am not sure if I really exist, I’m only a collection of all the poems I’ve read, all the people I’ve loved, all the storms I’ve seen, all the cities I’ve visited
sometimes all you can do is lay under 3 large blankets while holding onto a stuffed animal
That side of depression
Why do people never talk about the part of depression when you just don’t want anything anymore? Everybody talks about when it hurts like hell, when you cry, when you cut, when you take drugs, when you break down. But no one ever talks about when you just lay down in your room, with a hole inside of you that you don’t know how to fill, and you don’t want to do anything even the things you usually like. So you just spend your day kinda waiting for it to end. And it’s horrible because you feel empty and guilty for that at the same time.
the sexiest accessory is and always has been a little black cat that you carry around on your shoulder with whom you share a deep, inexplicable spiritual bond
mental health status: need to look at the sea for hours and stay quiet.
“I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, Kiss me harder, and You’re a good person, and, You brighten my day. I live my life as straight-forward as possible. Because one day, I might get hit by a bus. Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands. But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate. And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care. We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans. We never know when the bus is coming.”
— Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them. (via thequotejournals)
are ya winnin son
could i offer you some round bears in these trying times?
Exciting bookish news!
Bookshop.org - a website providing local indie bookstores with an online platform - has launched in the UK on 2nd of November, just in time for the second national lockdown. Very happy about this, I've been waiting for this service to reach UK ever since I heard of it!
Spread the word for your UK-based followers - I chanced upon a little note in a newspaper, there's definitely not enough coverage for this! 📖☕
Also, according to an author friend of mine, authors can (and have) set up their own portals for their books, which snags them an extra 10% commission on top of the royalties they’d receive from the publisher.
i don’t like how endings in real life come on so suddenly without making sense, without much warning. one minute you’re in the middle of something and the next it’s all a very long time ago and you’re a different person and none of it is ever coming back
Occupation: sleepiest girl on the planet
i use ‘!!’ a lot, but it’s honestly like a quiet ‘!!’