My Dear, I Will Read Your Book.

Sometimes I wonder if I should delete this Blog when I get famous. It wouldn't be appropriate for a famous author to have a tumblr, right? What do yall think?

Or i could just go anonymous and this could be wll thats left of me <333

There is nothing more excruciating then giving up. You don't want good or bad. You just go on. You're a dead fish flowing with the stream of water, except you're not dead- you're alive. And human.

why is my entire dash 9/11 jokes did smth happen or

Slipping time is looking down at you. Its favourite incarnation, and it's thinking: has it forgotten us? Has it, forgotten itself?

Time is worried, how the little incarnation with such fascinating drive is no longer moving. You are still as if time is still

Old poetry is such an unexpected GEM

Darling, how I wish I could tell your gentle soul how light flickers atleast twice before it is eternal.

For the most virulent of snakes would spit off their venom to kiss your name, when it is but etched on a rock;- how when timid dark ravens will curl themselves in vines that reach from behind your tomb, would then flaunt their wings spreading life around like scattered glitter.

And the rain would skip you when souls begin to raise their cupped hands crying for water,

For your stubborn petals bloom with tears that are only now salty in your mouth."

Now someone tell me what was going through my mind at 12 years old because clearly there is plot behind this.

How the fuck do writers do what they do?

"I want to rip my skin open and say, "See? I bleed, but I do not bleed red. Is this black you're seeing not enough? Do I have to rip a little more? Just so you believe when I say I'm not doing well?"

“If the full moon loves you, why worry about the stars?”

— Tunisian Proverb

Moloccan Electus is one of my favourite red parrots 🤌 it's like you read my mind! I love the red against the green✅❤😩

a moluccan eclectus for @hanamal1k !!

"Will you just tell me what your fucking problem is? You're acting crazy, you know that, but you think you can still pretend everything is fine? Spit it out!"

"I'm— I'm being haunted."

I've said the forbidden thing. And I'm waiting for the ceiling to fall on top of us or for the ground to swallow me whole, but all i see and feel is the horror on their faces. Why isn't Celia, the Celia whom I murdered not doing a single thing? It is only when i lift my head to see their horrified faces once again that I understand.

I understand to such a degree that I break into maniacal laughter as the world spins around me. Both me and the woman haunting me— we share a common goal now.

I want to We want to torture the people who made me murder her. "Maybe Celia's not haunting me. Maybe I'm posessed by her. For I've never understood a person this much before!"

"You watch your mouth, new prince. Before I—"

"Before you strip me off the 'chosen hero' title? Well to hell with your fucking special play, your uniqueness. Curse you and that royal blood— After all, what kind of chosen hero, What kind of God' s favourite hold's a knife to a young woman's innocent throat? All in the name of 'erasing cursed heritage?' In the name of the cause, you ruined me! You all have forgotten yourselves! Even declared yourself king, at the expense of making me a murderer. At the expense of the love of my life— no, the life of my love!" Celia uses her powers now. No, her presence is stronger. She uses it to shut me up, ofcourse. Frightening, how love is enough to shake the souls of the dead, aswell.

After all, I only confessed my love for her once she was incapable of loving me back.

"Lock him up. Cut him until he swears by the blood."

I pray she will use her powers to intervene, and save me from the torture. I hear no objection as I'm dragged away. What a creative manner to reject me, my celia. I will admire you from hell

"Will you just tell me what your fucking problem is? You're acting crazy, you know that, but you think you can still pretend everything is fine? Spit it out!"

"I'm— I'm being haunted."