my dad just gave me a copy of george orwell’s 1984 that he read 18 years ago. the classics in his bookshelf are so beautiful… how the pages look so well-loved. this book obsession runs in my veins.

i would cross the ocean just to hear you talk about your day

words are so ineffably beautiful

one of the best feelings the heart can hold is when it has come to a point where the love it gives to the soul that houses it is so inexplicably strong as though nothing can ravage it. that, to me, is what assuaging my anguish with my own love feels like.

and yet i yearn for arms that never held me

in my dreams, i see all the people I've ever loved. time does not reach them there. i hold onto the unchanged elements of you in who i am. if i loved you then, i love you now

ㅤㅤㅤ

nights like this

i think just spent all my allowance on books…

— Albert Camus

sylvia plath

just like virginia woolf, i want to lie down like a tired child and weep away this life

the feeling after a good conversation is unmatched. someone listened to your world and let you into theirs. the rareness of being heard.

the things my 13 year old self wrote in her journals make franz kafka's diaries look like a cheerful bedtime story

me and my english teacher geeking out over kafka in class earlier was literally the best thing that happened to me in february

it feels good to be back